BFFF
by CryHOg
Summary: Let's face it. We all have that certain coworker we can't stand and wish they would just die. Harsh,yes. But that's how we feel sometimes. But after a few beers will you become friends? Or Lovers? No? How 'bout married? No? Then-oh...OH!...oh? AmerEngld
1. Chapter 1

_**Oh-ho... it's the Author... *teeth clenches tight, "smiling"* What a surprise...: **__Greetings, fanfic-ers! It's CryHOg! Back once again to start off my newest fanfiction on one of my favorite anime Hetalia. After finishing up my first fic "Garlic Breath," I was almost in tears cuz I didn't want it to end. So on this fanfic, I wanna try something different. Don't worry. I'm still gonna make a sequel to 'Garlic Breath'. I love GerxIty so uber much! *hearts in eyes* _

_On this next story, I wanna focus on my other fave pairings, and this different thing that I wanna try out will hopefully make me feel better. To the readers who have read 'Garlic Breath', I really hope you guys enjoy this one. _

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya. Not mine, but it's fun to pretend... *sniffs***_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 1)~**

**00000000**

"Again, I thank you all for coming," the manager of the credit card company Freedom Unit, Roderich said, adjusting his glasses and stacking his papers. "And please do not forget to offer our callers the Emergency Medical Cards if they are interested. Our existing F.U. card holders will be getting theirs mailed by next week. Any questions before we adjourn the meeting?"

A hand hesitantly raised far back of the office.

Roderich blinked, surprised to see a familiar face who hardly speaks during the meeting raised his hand. "Why, Mr. Vergas," Roderich said with a warm smile. "What will it be?"

"Um..." the Italian began, blushing hard as all eyes were on him. He felt small having everyone looking at him. He knew he should have talked to the manager in private.

"We're listening, Feliciano," Roderich spoked.

"W-well... A... few weeks ago," the Italian bit down his lower lip before continuing, "there was an earthquake at Haiti."

"It made news worldwide," the tired British Arthur cut in, resting his head on his hand. "You'd be a wanker if you just found out."

A few coworkers snickered quietly to themselves.

"Please let him continue, Arthur-san," the Japanese man Kiku said, frowning softly.

"Um..." the Italian continued, growing redder, "they need a lot of help down there and..."

"You want us all to pitch in and donate?" Another coworker named Alfred asked, grinning. "You weren't thinking about mailing in pasta were you?"

The Italian's entire face turned apple red as some of the coworkers laughed while others just shook their heads in shame, and one or so just sat quietly. Their laugher came to a complete halt when something loud and hard slammed on the table. The coworkers whipped their heads to see a tall blond standing with anger in their pierced blue eyes.

"THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER!" Roared a deep, strong voice. It came from none other than the German himself, Ludwig. "LET HIM SPEAK!" The room grew very quiet. Even if a pin had a mind of its own, it probably wouldn't dare drop. The German turned to the Italian who was too shaken up to continue after his outburst. The German nodded once. "Mr. Vergas," the German said now in a gentler voice as he sat back down, "continue... please."

The Italian who opened his mouth, too scared to let anything out, nodded in return and stood from his chair. "Just like Alfred said," the Italian began quietly, looking down and playing with his blue neck tie. "I mean, about donating money... or have our customers lend a hand-ve... every bit counts right?"

"Hm," Roderich hummed, nodding with agreement. "You're maybe onto something, Mr. Vergas. Would anyone be willing to give donations for the people of Haiti?"

The coworkers looked at each other nodded in reply, talking among each other. It was a good idea. It would also be giving the company good reviews. After all, Freedom Unit could be generous too.

"We can send letters to F.U. card holders and ask if they are willing to donate a dollar," Kiku spoke up.

"We could also throw in our Freedom Unit mini flashlight key chains for free if our customers give donations," Alfred said excitedly. "People ask for those things all the time, ya know!"

"They're so cute!" A woman agreed. "Who wouldn't want an F.U. mini flashlight key chain?"

Rodrich never seen so many of his employees speak up or take part in anything. And it was all thanks to that pasta loving Italian.

"I can make a donation box for the office!"

"I can have my kids ask if their schools can pitch in!"

"Do you think we can send can goods too?"

"I guess my vacation to Vegas can wait. Count me in!"

"Alright, everyone! Settle down," the Austrian yelled out, trying to quiet everyone. "It is settled then. Let us take part in helping out Haiti anyway we can. We'll make a donation box, send letters to our customers, and anything else we can think of."

Everyone nodded in reply.

"Alright!" Roderich smiled, standing. "Then I guess this meeting is adjourn until next time. Thank you, Mr. Vergas."

"You're welcome-ve!" Feliciano answered, nodding happily. He felt good being praised by his boss and coworkers.

All the employees gathered their things. Some left already and others were sticking around chatting.

The German who was watching the Italian walked over to him and patted his back. "That was very caring of you," the blond said quietly enough for only the Italian to hear.

"Thank you, Ludwig!" Feliciano answered looking up at the German and blushing softly.

"Um..." Ludwig cleared his throat, wanting to keep the conversation going.

"Hm?" the Italian blinked.

"Do you... I mean..." the fidgeting German rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you need a ride back home?"

"I have my bike."

"I know. I just thought... maybe..."

"I'm okay, Ludwig! I love riding my bike-ve!"

"Oh, well... if you are sure."

"Yep!" the Italian chuckled gathering his things and slipping his jacket on. "Oh! Um... thank you for getting everyone's attention for me."

"Oh," the German replied softly. "I was just trying to... well..." The German was cut off as the Italian gave him a big hug. The German blinked. He looked over seeing Alfred grinning while Kiku and Arthur stared blinking. Another coworker named Berwald was just staring with an unreadable expression. The German never felt embarrassed. Sure the Italian gave him hugs all the time, but having people staring made him want to run to the restroom and stay there until everyone left the building. He sighed with relief when the Italian pulled away.

"I will see you tomorrow, Ludwig!" the Italian said with a silly grin. "I'll make more fettuccine Alfredo for you tomorrow-ve!"

The German nodded slowly as he watched the energetic, pasta lover leave the office. "Such a weird man..." he said quietly to himself. "But why is he adorable at the same time?"

"Hey, Ludwig!" called a peppy voice whose belong to Alfred.

The German rolled his eyes before he turned to his coworker. "Hello, Alfred," the German said in a monotone. He then turned to the others. "Kiku. Arthur."

Kiku and Arthur nodded in return.

"Hey, now!" Alfred chuckled adjusting his glasses. "Don't forget 'Mr. Quiet Man' too."

"Who?" Ludwig replied, blinking.

"'Mr. Quiet Man'. A.K.A. Ber..." the burger lover turned to his coworkers, then blinked, realizing only Kiku and Arthur were the only two standing behind him. "...wald...?"

"He left two seconds ago, Alfred-san," the Japanese explained.

"No thanks to you," the British added, frowning and arms folded. "He probably knew you were up to no good."

"Now, why would he take off because of me?" Alfred asked, blinking.

"Because you're up to no bloody good like I said! Bollocks! And he even offered to pay for our drinks tonight."

"Hey, now," the American laughed, holding up his hands in defense. "There's no need to go all British now."

"I AM British, you dumb excused for an American git!"

Alfred ignored his fussy coworker and turned back to the German who looked like he was getting ready to make a retreat. "Looks like you've been getting defensive for your little friend," the American twit said with a wink.

"It's nothing," the German murmured getting his things and wanting this conversation to end quickly.

"He must really like you. You like him too, right?"

"He's okay." The German slipped on his jacket.

"I mean, besides me, Kiku, and 'Mr. Flapjack' back there, you seem to be with him the most."

"Alfred-san?" Kiku interrupted, trying to make the American shut up. "I don't think Berwald-san is coming. I will pay for the drinks tonight.

"What are you trying to say, Alfred?" The German asked, ignoring the Japanese man.

"Nothing, nothing," Alfred answered, adjusting his glasses once again. "I just think it's... cute. Seeing a tough-looking guy such as yourself hanging with a vulnerable, innocent guy like Mr. Vergas. Just like that movie, uh... what was it called? 'Body Guard'?"

The German's eye twitched. His cheeks flushed. His hand slowly turned into a fist.

The Japanese man's face paled.

The muttering British's lips snapped shut.

"Alfred..." the German tried saying as calmly as possible.

"Ludwig," the American chuckled. "I'm teasing you! I just think it's sweet that you're nice to the man, is all. After seeing you two hang around lunch all the time-heh, you might as well go on a date!"

"..."

"I really think we should leave now, Alfred-san..."

"Hell, I'll pay for the bloody drinks, okay? Let's go, you brute!"

The German looked down at the cheesing American for a long time. He then looked up, deep in thought. Quietly, he picked up his suitcase and left the office.

"You damn fool," the Brit hissed after Ludwig was long gone.

"What was that all about, Alfred-san?" Kiku asked pulling out his handkerchief, and using it to pat dry his forehead.

"Just playing cupid, Kiku," the burger lover answered, grinning. "Just playing cupid."

"That wasn't cupid," Arthur said arms folded. "That was World War III waiting to happen."

**00000000**

"You are bloody heavy, you know that?"

"_Three bottles of beeeeer on the waaall..._ ya love carrying me. I know ya do! _Three bottles of beeeeeeer..._"

"Where should we take him, Arthur-san?"

"His couch. I can't carry this bastard any further!"

After five bottles of guzzled beer and on the way home singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall", Arthur and Kiku drove their drunk American friend back to his apartment. This would happen everytime. Alfred would drink himself silly and embarrassed himself and his friends; from karaoke, to a dance off against someone who tried to steal the show. Alfred would be damned if he was going to be the second most beloved regular customer in the bar. Even at a drunk state, Alfred was a pretty decent dancer. And _everytime_ the burger lover would dance until he pukes and passes out. And _everytime _his comrades would end up paying the tab even when the American promised he would _everytime_, and carries him to Arthur's vehicle driving him back home. His friends carried him to his couch, Kiku would call a cab and refused to have Arthur drive him back, and Arthur would stick around all night to make sure Alfred would take his anti-hangover pills. This happened _everytime_. It was the trio's routine every Thursday night. And _everytime _nothing out of the ordinary would happen. This was normal.

The British went to the bathroom to fetch the American's anti-hangover pills while the Japanese man made sure the American was comfortable, placing a thin blanket over him. The American sat up singing out once again. Kiku tried quieting him, making him lie back down.

"_Take one dooowwwn-pass it arrouuuuunndd... twoooo bottleessss of beer on the waaaaaall!_" Alfred sung out, making Kiku's face cringe. The American laughed and laid back down on the couch. "Ahhh, wut a night!"

"Bloody two bottles, Alfred?" Arthur cried angrily, coming back with the pills. "You've been singing that blasted song all the way back home and you're only going to fucking stop at two bottles?"

"Yeah!" the American giggled. "Pisses ya off dun it?" (*) The burger lover laughed out, then suddenly he made a strange noise, covering his mouth.

Fully prepared, the Brit held out a trash bin in front of the drunk American in time for him to bury his head in and vomit hard. Hearing the man vomit always sounded like he was puking up all his vital organs.

"I told you you had enough, Alfred-san," Kiku said shaking his head.

"You're not my daaad," the American joked with a weak chuckle. The drunk American pulled his head away from the can and plopped back down on the couch panting.

The British walked over to the drunk and squeezed his jaw, forcing it open. He popped two pills in Alfred's mouth and nearly drowned him with a glass of water.

"Ah-ack! Okay! Okay!" The American choked, sitting up and coughing. "I swallowed 'em! Geez!"

"You deserve it, you wanker," Arthur said angrily pulling the glass away. "You always deserve your immature ways when we go out Thursday night. You think you'd learn by now."

"Heeey, maaaaan," the drunk American slurred, "gotta keep mah title in bein' populah." Alfred smirked doing his best impression of a Fonzi pose.

"You are a punch in the face waiting to happen," Arthur sighed. "Both at work and off work!"

The drunk giggled in reply.

"I am going to call the cab to take me home now, Arthur-san," Kiku said quietly as he got up.

"Kiku, let me take you home," Arthur begged. "I always feel guilty when you call a cab."

"You have to make sure Alfred-san is better. I honestly do not mind."

"If you say so," Arthur said shaking his head and knowing he can't make the Japanese man change his mind. "How about next week we take your car?"

"Very well," Kiku smiled nodding.

"I'm payin' next time!" Alfred yelled out sitting up again.

"Right..." both Arthur and Kiku said in unison.

"Did youse guies see how awsum I wuz doin' a handstand at th' bar?"

"Yes," both Arthur and Kiku answered in unison.

"Hah-ha! Badass!"

The Brit went to the kitchen, muttering something about wanting to transfer his job to another location.

**00000000**

It had been an hour since Kiku left the apartment. Arthur was siting on a recliner, quietly reading his book that he let Alfred borrow, but the git never returned it. He looked from the book, watching Alfred. The burger lover was fast asleep, snoring softly, drool and all. Arthur rolled his eyes, closing the book. He pulled out his cell phone checking the time. It was 12:09AM. He figured the drunk fool would be okay the rest of the night. He always was. After puking his guts out for the third time tonight, he knew the American will sober up by tomorrow. He stretched and yawned before throwing his book carelessly on the table. He stood from the comfy recliner, slipping his jacket on. He looked down at the sleeping American.

Alfred softly moaned a bit in his sleep. He looked different without his glasses. He looked much younger. How old did he say he was? The Brit couldn't remember, but he knew for sure that he was a little older than Alfred. The sleeping American's eyelashes would flutter a few times. The British thought the git was dreaming about hamburgers. For all he knew, the American probably was. He watched the sleeping drunk making soft breathing noises, and his chest would rise and fall. _He looks better when he keep his bloody mouth shut_, the British thought. And for a split second, he thought Alfred looked like a cute, peaceful little boy. "Who deserves a spanking," he thought out loud, turning his eyes away from the sleeping figure. The British face felt warm. That wasn't normal to him. What was that about? Frowning and brushing it off, he grabbed his car keys and quietly walked pass the drunk American. "G'night, you wanker," he said quietly. Of course, the British would always say that to the drunk. _Everytime_. Suddenly, something warm grabbed Arthur's hand. The touch nearly made the Brit jump out of his shoes. He whipped around, seeing his drunk coworker half awake, holding his hand.

"Dun gooooo," the American groaned groggily.

"Alfred, I'm tired," Arthur said annoyingly. "I'm not spending the whole night babysitting you. Go back to sleep."

"Pleeeeasse?" The American begged like a bratty child. "You can have my bed. It's comfy"

"I wouldn't sleep in your bed if it were the last comfy bed in the-wah!" The Brit was cut off, being yanked hard and landing on top of the drunk American. Arthur was in a daze before realizing what just happened. He recovered, seeing that his face were inches away from the grinning American's. This was new from the American coworker. He was always fast asleep before the Brit would leave the apartment. Right now, something else was new to Arthur. More like _felt_ new. Just as their bodies made contact with each other, the Brit had a peculiar reaction all over his body... the reaction he thought he would only get when a pretty lady like his fully breasted coworker Ingrid (*) would give him when she flirted and teased him at work. The Brit coworker blinked several times before he finally reacted. He tried to roll off Alfred. His American coworker, however, wouldn't let him budge. "Are you mad?" The angry British cried looking down at the giggling American.

"Maaaybe," Alfred answered, locking his arms around the British's waist.

"You bastard! Get your filthy hands off me!"

The American chuckled, watching the man struggle. He leaned over resting his forehead against the blushing British's forehead. "Make me," Alfred murmured.

Before Arthur had time to swear at his coworker and tell him where he was going to insert his car keys, he was silenced by warm lips.

Now, _everytime _when the drunk Alfred passed out on the couch, Arthur would stay to make sure his coworker was sober up. _Everytime_, Arthur would always stop what he was doing, grabbed his car keys, left the apartment, and drove straight home.

Every Thursday night, nothing out of the ordinary would happen. That Friday morning, something completely different happened.

**00000000**

Nervous, shaky panting.

"A-Alfred... it's not... this isn't right!"

Soothing, comforting whispers.

"It's alright... I'll stop if it hurts."

"B-bastard! Let... let go!"

This night was new. Different. Not normal. Since when was this part of Thursday's routine? But it was not Thursday. It was Friday. A new day. A new hour. A new present. Thursday was long forgotten. Friday was anew.

"You're drunk!"

"I'm fine..."

Discarded clothes thrown carelessly on the floor.

"I'm a man."

"So?"

"You're a bloody man too!"

"So?"

"So stop it!"

"I don't think I can..."

"Why the fuck not?"

"...cuz I'm drunk."

"Get off!"

On a new night, a trembling British man named Arthur was laying flat on his stomach on his coworker's bed fully naked. And his wrists were pinned down tightly over his head. On top of him was his coworker Alfred, drunk, pressing his lips gently on his bare shoulder. The British inhaled a shaky breath from the contact.

This was different. This was new. This was crazy. This... was wrong.

"I can't..." the Brit whimpered holding back his tears. "I can't do this!" Arthur let out a startled cry, feeling his coworker's slick index finger enter him.

"How's that?" the American asked gently before pressing his lips on top of his coworker's head.

"How the fuck should I bloody know?" The British answered angrily. "I'm lying on my drunk coworker's bed with my bare keister in the air, and my coworker just happen to have their lube finger inside my fucking arse!"

"You complain too much, you know that," the American said, gently inserting another lube finger.

"Ah! Stop!"

The drunk American blinked, looking down at his lube fingers inside Arthur. "Huh... I dunno know if this will fit me with even three fingers..." the drunk said sadly.

The Brit's eyes had widen, looking back at his drunk coworker. "Keep that thing away from my arse, you fuck!" he warned.

"Hold on... I think... we can manage."

"Manage? Alfred, I swear to the Queen of England, if you don't let me go I'll-a-ahh..."

A third lube finger was inserted.

"Keep moaning that way..." the American murmured, moving his fingers inside. "You sound really cute."

"I'll show you cute, you damn American-Nhhh! Wh-what the bloody hell ar-ahhh!"

"Just like that. It's so cute..."

"Al-Alfred!"

Fingers were released, replaced by something different. Something new. Something slick and hard.

Blue eyes closed with pleasure.

Green eyes widen with fear.

**00000000**

"A-Alfred..."

"Relax... I promise to stop if it hurts."

Burning, stretching, tearing, uncomfortable pressure that felt like it would never end.

"Y..you said you'll stop ten bloody minutes ago!"

Heavy breathing, forceful thrust, yearning for more until an explosion of light would burst.

"Just a little... more... a little..."

"Alfred... no more... it fucking burns!"

Sweat, tears, heart racing, blood pumping.

"Arthur... Arthur..."

"D...deeper, damn you... deeper!"

Acceptance, lusting, needing, wanting.

"Stroke it yourself. Let me watch."

"That's... embarrassing, you perverted American."

"Well, I had no idea."

That completely different night, that Friday, Arthur was laying on his coworker's bed butt naked, getting penetrated by his drunk coworker. He hated it. He was disgusted by it.

"Ar...thur... it's..."

What... the bloody hell's happening...?"

He loved it.

**00000000**

A different apartment. A different roof. A different ceiling. A different room. A different bed. This was totally new to the Brit. A new afterglow. Soft kisses placed all over his body. Warm hands exploring, caressing, tickling until the body next to him passed out.

New silence.

New situation.

New relationship?

"Bollocks..." a dazed British murmured.

The aching Brit got up, gathering his scattered clothes, and painfully slipped them back on. He stared at the passed out American while dressing.

"Bollocks..."

Arthur rushed back to the living room looking for his car keys. He seems to have misplaced them.

"Bollocks..."

He turned to the couch and yanked out all the cushions until he heard a jingling noise. He snatched the keys and rushed to the door without even bothering to fix the couch back.

"Bollocks..."

Arthur closed the door behind him, walking to his car. He slowly and painfully got in, starting the engine. After the car started, he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Sitting... just sitting there. The British coworker Arthur Kirkland, just got knocked up by his dumb American coworker Alfred Jones. This was definitely new. It was definitely different. Arthur couldn't get over being shocked, confused, dazed, and appalled.

"Bollocks..."

He never felt so turned on.

* * *

_**Chapter 1-end trasmission...**_

_**I suck at love scenes... BIG time.**_

_**Heheh... big.**_

_**When I told you all that I wanted to try something completely different (ha ha), I really wanted to keep it the same. Meaning (If some of you are kinda aware), I made this into a spin-off of Garlic Breath. That way I won't feel sad for a while since G.B. is over (there will still be a sequel like I said). I'm so excited about this spin-off. I just hope you guys really like it. Well, I'm gonna hit the hay. Staring at this computer for 15 hours is making me see things. Hopefully, more chapters to come. **_

_**~See the stars (*)~**_

_**Did you see one? **_**:D**

_**1) **__"Bloody two bottles, Alfred?" Arthur cried angrily, coming back out with the pills. "You've been singing that blasted song all the way back home and you're only going to fucking stop at two bottles?"_

"_Yeah!" the American giggled. "Pisses ya off dun it?":__** (How many here used to watch 'The Golden Girls' on NBC? *CryHOg the only one to raise her hand* Anyone? ...nobody? ...damn, I must really be old then. Well, I got that little reference of the "99 bottles" song from that show. This character on the show named Rose, who isn't very bright, was singing that song from their trip and back. She only stopped at 2 bottles, and her friends were so angry with her. It was hilarious! Lol It's a very funny show about these 4 single, old ladies living in a nice house in Miami, FL. My fave character is Sophia Pratrilo. She was born and raised in Sicily(hope I spelled that right), and she's the oldest in the bunch. I like her cuz she's so damn witty, a smart ass, and tells her epic tales of her home country Italy that are pointless and doesn't seem to solve the problems the other girls or anyone else are having LOL. I wanna be like her when I get all wrinkly! Haha! Come to think of it, I think it was also a spin-off of that one show 'Empty Nest' or vise versa. That was a funny show back in the day also! If you guys have either the Hallmark channel or WE television, check out Golden Girls. Not sure what time they usually come on, but when I flip the channel I just happen to catch it by luck!) **_

_**2) **__the reaction he thought he would only get when a pretty lady like his fully breasted coworker Ingrid...__**: (I heart hentai. Guilty as charged. The name Ingrid is a hentai character from the ppl who gave us Taimanin Asagi: Hell Knight Ingrido (which I'm disappointed in btw). But basically it was a name I randomly came up with. But Ingrid does have a nice rack.) **_

_**Okies, more AmEngland goodies to come! Stay tuned... or internet-ed... **_

_**Be safe. ^3^**_

_**-Cry**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Oh, Author... why must you torture us so...? :**_ _So, what does BFFF stand for? It should be obvious. Tee hee... unless it means something else in the internetz worldo. But in this story that's what it stands for... if you guys caught on that is. I'll let ya figure it out on your own! ;D_

_Originally the title of this fic was gonna be 'Crumpets and Hamburgers-Only 99 cents'. The other night I was having trouble sleeping no thanks to the full moon... and other female problems... I hate full moons. Makes things go crazy and weird. Well, anyway, while I was tossing and turning on my Serta mattress, something in my head told me, "Just call it BFFF." _

_And thus, the title was born... as well as these bags under my eyes._

_*watching the readers scream in horror running away*_

_Hey! It was a full moon, people! Cut me some slack! I'm not that hideous..._

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya. (Seriously, Hima-chan... where mah ring at?)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 2)~**

**00000000**

_-Bing-_

"Arthur! Good morning!" Greeted a bright, pink box in front of the Brit's face when he stepped out of the elevator. It was funny because the small and poorly designed box almost sounded like Feliciano. The Brit stared at the box, his face expressionless.

The box lowered a bit, revealing a bright and grinning Feliciano. "It's nice right?" He asked the British man. "Everyone's been helping out-ve! The box's half full already! And we also have our customers taking part too!"

Arthur continued staring down blankly at the ugly box. He couldn't decide whether the pasta lover made it or their newest coworker from France whose name was Francis touched it. He really couldn't stand that damn romantic. They probably worked on it together. Every bit of detail of the box had Feliciano and Francis's names written all over it. It had acrylic paintings of roses all over the box with, a badly painted design of the Haiti flag (made by Feliciano of course), and in black words that reads "Donations for Haiti."

"And Alfred donated a hundred dollars! That was nice of him-ve!"

Arthur's entire body tensed. His throat was dry. His heart was fluttering. His breathing was staggering. His lower region was...

"Arthur... your face is red," the Italian said worriedly, placing a hand between the British's thick eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

"Bollocks..." the Brit coworker murmured to himself.

"Eh...?" the Italian turned his head to the side. "Bollocks? Who is that?"

The Brit coworker slowly looked up at the concerned Italian, but then froze, seeing another coworker from afar walking their way. It was a happy-go-lucky man with glasses smiling ear to ear. And he was staring dead at Arthur.

"Alfred..."

"Hm...?" the Italian blinked, staring into the Brit's nervous and twitching eyes. The Italian jumped by surprised when he felt a pair of hands plopped on both his shoulders.

"What's this?" The grinning American teased, massaging Feliciano's shoulders rather hard, and not noticing the Italian's face wincing painfully. "Do we have ourselves a hungover employee? No more beer for you, mister." Alfred playfully winked at his Brit coworker.

Arthur felt like killing himself... after killing Alfred of course.

"Is that why you don't look so good, Arthur?" The Italian asked, getting worried. "Maybe you should go home. "

"N...no," the stuttering Brit answered, eyes still glued to his burger loving coworker. "I'm fine."

"I forgot our Englishman here doesn't know the meaning of the word 'sick'." Alfred joked. He removed one hand from Feliciano's shoulder and now placed it on the stiff Brit's forehead.

Arthur's face only turned redder.

"Hm, you feel okay. But why is your face so red?"

"That's what I asked him-ve."

Arthur slowly began to frown. He roughly slapped the American's hand away. "Don't touch me, you bastard," he hissed.

"Whoa there, fella," the American chuckled. "You were getting us worried. But seeing that you're back to your British mode, I think you're gonna be okay."

"Okay?" Arthur cried, making Feliciano jump and holding the box in front of his face to defend himself. "How can you bloody say that with a straight face? And after last night?"

"Hey, now," Alfred chuckled. "Don't get your tighty whities yellow stained. I said I will pay for next Thursday."

"You fucking conniving, inexcusable pile of..." the British paused, looking into the grinning American's eyes. "...do you... even remember what happened last night?"

"I remember singing '99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall', puking at least three times, and made fun of Kiku because he's named after a car. And after waking up naked and seeing my cushions pulled out from my couch, my guess would be that I was playing pillow fight in the nude."

Arthur just stared, mouth slightly opened, lost for words. Alfred maybe cocky, loud, nosy, and a punching bag wannabe, but he was an honest man. The Brit doubted the twit would joke about something like this. Arthur was totally convinced that his American coworker was oblivious of their adult activity last night.

Feliciano, meanwhile, was still in between them, confused as ever. "Um, Arthur? Bollocks?" The Italian spoked, turning to them both. "Is everything all right?"

"It's fine, Feliciano," Alfred chuckled patting the Italian's shoulder. "I'm sobered up, and the bloke over there is fine as well. That's just how he is, and...." Alfred blinked looking down at the Italian oddly. "...did you just call me bollocks?" Alfred asked.

"I asked Arthur who it was, and he said it was you-ve," the Italian answered, smiling his goofy smile.

Arthur was at a lost. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or punch the American hard enough that his glasses would break and let the shards pierce his eyes. Instead he took the donation box from the Italian.

"Hm?" The pasta lover looked up at the British coworker.

"I'll take over," Arthur said quietly, looking down, not wanting to stare at the American anymore.

"Oh, thank you, Arthur!"

"That's very caring of ya," the burger lover said grinning.

"Shut up," the British coworker snapped.

"Hm?" Feliciano looked up seeing a familiar person stepped out of the elevator. "Ludwig! Good morning!" The Italian rushed over to the blond German, giving him a good morning hug.

"Felciano," both coworkers, Arthur and Alfred heard the deep voice blond say behind them. "There's something I want to ask you."

"Sure!" the Italian chirped happily. "What is it, Ludwig?"

Not wanting to get in their business, Arthur took the box and walked passed Alfred.

"Pink's a nice color for ya, Arthur," the American coworker teased.

"Go to hell, Alfred," the British coworker yelled over his shoulder, then turned back front murmuring to himself, "I know I am."

**00000000**

"_Well, look, buddy. I'm not interested. I'm satisfied with the credit card I have now. I would appreciate it if you stop calling."_

"Well, look, wanker. I don't give a damn if you are or aren't interested. I'm simply just doing my bloody job. I do hope you enjoy _your _card. Though there are few places I recommend where you can shove it besides your wallet."

"_..."_

_-click-_

"Bastard," the Brit muttered, angrily slamming down the phone. This day was never going to end. He hated calling customers. They were always so mean and snappy over the phone. The Brit hated admitting that his customers are probably worse than him. Everyday there would always be an issue when he talks to them. He sometimes wondered if his phone line was only for people who wanted to bitch at him. His coworkers never seem to have trouble with their customers. He painfully grunted, feeling the pain down where the sun didn't shine returning. He went over to his drawer, pulling out his pain killers. He flipped open the bottle, taking out two pills, popped them in his mouth, and swallowed them down with his morning tea. The Brit made a face. His hot tea was now cold. He hated cold tea. He hated seeing the commercial of those overacting models chugging down bottles of ice tea. To Arthur, tea is always meant to be hot. Just the thought of ice tea made him want to gag. Arthur leaned on his desk resting on his elbows. He sighed, closing his eyes, and massaging his temple, waiting patiently for the pain to subside. He would kill for a beer right now.

_Beer..._

"_H... harder, you drunk bastard." _

Arthur's eyes opened slightly, looking down at his scattered papers. His face began to flushed.

"_Just like that?"_

"_Stop teasing... more!" _

Arthur's body grew hot. He felt intoxicated, and he didn't even drink anything alcoholic today. He pants felt uncomfortably tight. The Brit grunted softly squirming slightly in his chair.

"_Alfred... harder, you git..."_

This was unfair. He shouldn't be thinking about this. Not now. He should think about other things. Unsexual things.

Earl Grey tea.

Beatles.

Doctor Who.

Big Ben.

...

Big... _hard_ Ben.

"_Harder...!"_

This was not working.

Arthur started panting, automatically unfastening a few of his button on his light blue shirt.

"_Stop... rubbing them... I'm not a woman, you arse!"_

The Brit slipped a hand in his shirt, brushing his fingers across a nipple. Arthur then squirmed more in his chair making it squeak. The coworkers chattering, the phones ringing, his incoming call, and everything that was around the Brit was nothing but muffling noises in his ear. The only thing he heard was his heavy breathing and his heart throbbing in his ears. The hot Brit moaned softly as he pinched his nipple, not fully aware he was doing it.

"_Don't... stop."_

Arthur pulled his hand out his shirt, moving it down lower to cup his throbbing crotch. He began rubbing it slowly. He closed his eyes, his breathing increasing. He desperately needed more.

"_This is... insane..."_

"_You like it?"_

"_It's..."_

He wanted to blow. He wanted release. He wanted...

Arthur shivered. "Fuck..."

A **good **fuck.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

The Brit jumped from his chair, moving his hands away from anything that looked inappropriate to touch. His hand knocked over his drink, spilling it on the floor. His face was flushed, and his heart felt like it would pound straight out his chest. This was embarrassing. Humiliating. Did they see? Did they hear? There were so many thoughts running through the Brit's mind right now. If it was his dumb, American coworker behind him right now, he would die! Then again if it was Alfred, the one thing that was screaming inside the Brit's head was... _Screw it! Bloody take me!_

"Mr. Kirkland, are you all right?" the voice behind him asked.

The Brit coworker turned his chair around, seeing it was his boss Roderich standing outside his cubicle. The still horny Brit's face blushed, but this time from embarrassment. If the Austrian caught what he was doing just now, it would be the end of it, as well as his job. "Um... yes," he answered shakily, before clearing his throat and fixing his shirt. "I'm terribly sorry for... um..."

"Mr. Kirkland, will you come see me in my office?"

_Bollocks..._

The Brit stood from his chair, hoping his hardness wouldn't be too noticeable. He quietly followed his boss to his office, feeling eyes were watching him as they passed. He sighed, somewhat glad he was away from the nosy neighbors when they made it inside. The Brit remained standing while the boss went to his chair. "Mr. Edelstein," the guilty Brit began, trying to come up with an excuse for what he did. "I assure you..."

"Mr. Kirkland," Roderich sighed, pushing up his glasses. "This morning I've gotten seven complaints from callers saying that a man with a British accent have been extremely rude to them. I've let this slide before, but Mr. Kirkland, this is the fourth time this month."

"....oh." The Brit never felt so relieved. Even if he was getting fired today, he rather it would be from this than having his own boss catching him daydream about getting laid by a wanker last night and getting off from under the desk.

"Mr. Kirkland, I know callers can sometimes push your buttons, but you must learn to control your temper. The best way to counterattack a mean person is through kindness. Does that make any sense?"

The British brushed his fingers through his blond hair. "Yes sir," he answered quietly.

The Austrian looked up at the frowning British. "You seem to be having a quarrel with Mr. Jones," he said, changing the subject. "I see you two together quite often, but you always look annoyed and uncomfortable around him. Have you been having trouble with him? Has he been bullying you around?"

The British's face had reddened once again. Why was everybody bringing up the burger loving twit's name all of a sudden? "It's just Alfred, sir," Arthur murmured, eyes rolling. "He's just being an arse like always."

"I see." Roderich responded, reaching for his papers. "If anyone _is _bothering you or you see any of your coworkers getting harassed, please come see me."

"Very well," the Brit nodded.

The Austrian smiled warmly. "You may go back to your cubicle."

"Thank you, sir."

The Austrian watched his employee leave the office. He then blinked. "His face looked so red. I hope he's not coming down with anything," Roderich thought out loud.

_**ERRAGGGHHH! I'm losing it, guys! Damn this 2**__**nd**__** chapter sucked Tom's brand of sour cream and onion potato chips with a side of watery hot cocoa... **_

_**No... this can't be happening. It can't be happening! This is ONLY my second fanfic.... **_

_**Could it be...?**_

_**Is this what they call... a writer's block? **_

_**D: I won't allow it! I's REFUUUUUUZE! Bare with me, my children! I'll get it back... I hope! T-T **_

_**There was supposed to be more for this chapter, but this felt like a good stopping point, but why am I not happy about this one? *sighs* well, stay tuned for chapter 3. I think for now I need to get into different projects for Youtube and dA. Dammit I hate this....**_


	3. Chapter 3

_***sings* Author will, Author will **__**ANNOY U**__**:**_ _I want to thank everyone for their kind words once again. I was afraid I wasn't going anywhere with this story. But I wanna thank you guys again for encouraging me to keep going. I know I'm not the best writer, but I try my best. Though I'm not getting many reviews for this one, but I have been getting a butt load of Story adds and Story faves from this story which I'm very surprised. It's good to know you guys are taking the time to check this story out and keeping up with it. You guys totally rock! For serious! _

_Well, let's get back to torturing Arthur with countless hot, sweaty fish sex, shall we?_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_

_**(monkeys are sooo overrated, btw)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 3)~**

**00000000**

_Justin Comb...- 865-474.... California Roll. Dragon Roll. Tuna Roll... _"The bloody hell...?" The Brit was going through the next caller's phone number until he came along the lines of different types of sushi.

"Let's eat at Umi's tonight," (*) came a familiar and annoying voice.

The British frowned, looking up seeing it was his American coworker standing over him holding a Sushi Bar menu. "Alfred," the Brit began, a thick eyebrow twitching, "I thought we made an agreement that you're not to barge into my cubicle without calling me first."

"I know."

"Then why the bloody hell did you do it?"

The American coworker laughed. "The last time I tried calling, you hung up on me."

"You were talking about nothing but how excited you were when your goddamn Superman action figure came in the mail!"

"It's a collector's item!"

"...."

The British turned back to his work. "Go the fuck away, Alfred. I'm busy."

_Unless you wish to pin me down on this desk and pound me raw..._

The Brit placed an opened palm to his face in shame, cheeks turning re. _Where did that thought come from_, he wondered.

"Well, not anymore. Our shift is over." Alfred replied happily.

Arthur blinked and check his clock. It was already 5PM. Time really flew today.

"So let's go to Umi's. Kiku said he's paying." Alfred said, playfully poking the back of the Brit's head

Arthur brushed his coworker's hand away while cleaning up his station. He knew if he declined, the American would bother him all evening. "Fine," the Brit said, standing from his chair, slipping on his jacket.

"Great! I'll get Kiku!" The American happily smacked the British's shoulder rather hard and left the cubicle.

Arthur winced up from the contact. He frowned watching the annoying coworker leave. He rubbed his hurting shoulder before going back to clean his station. Then more pain slowly started to build up. His buttock was going sore again. He immediately took out his pills popping two more in his mouth. The British looked up hearing a familiar, cheery voice further down the office. "Now what?" the Brit muttered, poking his head out from his cubicle. It was that goofy Italian again. He was talking to the German Ludwig about something. This morning there was a commotion from them. He kept hearing the Italian mention something about Olive Garden to the other coworkers. The Brit couldn't care any less. He thought the Italian was weird and too friendly. Who would want to take Feliciano out on a date was beyond the Brit.

"Are you ready, Arthur-san?"

Arthur turned his head, seeing Kiku and Alfred outside his cubicle, waiting for him. "Yes," the British answered, grabbing his suitcase. The Brit followed his two coworkers to the elevator. Arthur looked up seeing Feliciano waving goodbye to the German before going back to his work station to close up.

"Heh," the American chuckled. "Looks like Ludwig finally took my advice."

"So they are going on a date?" Kiku asked blinking.

"As in... real date?" Arthur asked, surprised. The Brit couldn't believe it. He knew the German was quite protective of Feliciano, and he thought Ludwig only liked Feliciano for a brother. That German could be a little more desperate than Arthur thought.

"That's right," the American answered. "But my cupid duties are far from over." Alfred grinned, walking over to the giddy Italian.

"You damn twit," Arthur warned, frowning. "Don't get involved."

"Let's just go, Alfred-san," Kiku sighed.

Alfred ignored his companions and walked over to the Italian. "You two put on quite a show this morning, Mr. Feliciano," the American told the Italian.

Feliciano looked up from his work and smiled when he saw the Trio. "Alfred! Arthur! Kiku!" he exclaimed happily.

The British saw the next move coming a mile away.

_Please don't hug me... please don't bloody hug me..._

One by one, the Italian gave each his coworkers a hug. The Italian went over to the British, hugging him last. Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes before the hug was broken. "How are you three this evening-ve?" the Italian asked them.

"We're fine, Feliciano-san. Thank you," the Japanese answered, bowing slightly.

"We're going out for some sushi," the British spoked. "Would you like to join us?"

"We were gonna ask Ludwig also, but I see he's already gone." Alfred said his grin never leaving his face since they approached the Italian.

The British frowned keeping his eye on the damn burger lover.

_What are you scheming now, wanker?_

"That's all right," Feliciano answered while going over to his desk to get his things. "I'm going to heat up my left over lasagna tonight."

"Be sure you save up your appetite for tomorrow," the American chuckled.

"Eh?" The Italian blinked in confusion.

"I believe what Alfred's trying to say is be sure you don't eat too much before going to Olive Garden tomorrow." The British coworker explained.

"Oh, yes!" The brunette beamed nodding happily. "My date with Ludwig! We're going to Olive Garden!"

"I hope you have a wonderful time, Feliciano-san," Kiku said.

"Oh, I will, ve!" The Italian chuckled. "I'm going to Olive Garden with Ludwig!"

"I believe everyone is already aware," Arthur murmured, rubbing his temple.

"So..." Alfred butted in, smiling, "what's in store AFTER dinner?"

"Eh?" Feliciano blinked. "After?"

Arthur sighed placing his hand to his face in annoyance. "Alfred... shut up," he muttered quietly.

"Well, surely you two have something planned after dinner. Dancing? Watching the stars? Strolling through the park? Making out?" The burger lover winked at the last part.

"Making out?" the Italian murmured.

"Kissu?" The Japanese man replied. "You mean like a goodnight kissu."

"If you're trying to say 'kiss', then yeah! That's what I mean!" The American chuckled.

"K... kiss... Ludwig?" The Italian stuttered, his bronze cheeks turning a soft pink color.

"But if you two are going to have a good night 'kissu'," the American said, teasing Kiku's accent, "be sure to avoid garlic when you're eating out."

"Don't eat garlic?" The Italian bit down his lower lip slightly.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Feliciano-san," Kiku spoke up reassuring the Italian. "Just have a wonderful time."

"Indeed," Arthur agreed. "Honestly, why would it matter if you get a goodnight kiss? Just have fun. You shouldn't rush these things."

"Are you serious?" Alfred cried. "What's a date without a goodnight kiss?"

"It can still be a date without a goodnight kiss!" The British cried back his accent getting stronger. "Don't give him the wrong idea!"

"I'm not giving him the wrong idea. It's not like I said that they should have _sex _or anything like that."

The Italian's face turned purple. "Sex...?"

Arthur's face also turned purple. He sometimes believed the American twit never thinks before he talks. It was another reason why he couldn't stand a wanker... a wanker like Alfred F. Jones.

"It's getting late, Alfred-san," the Japanese man spoke. "We should head out."

"Oh, right!" Alfred chuckled. "Almost forgot."

"No, you didn't," the British grumbled, arms folded.

_And yet, you forgot last night that I was lying on your bed and you sticking that... that... hard... massive steel of a-_

"We'll catch you next week, Feliciano," the American smiled heading toward the elevator. "And remember... no garlic!"

"But that doesn't mean you should kiss him if you don't bloody want to!" Arthur added following him. He got in the elevator glaring at his American coworker.

Alfred blinked looking down at the green-eyed blond.

"Why the pouty face?" he asked.

"You are so unbelievably stupid," he told the American.

"Hm?"

"Are you trying to make an even bigger fool out of yourself? You need to stay out of people's business!"

"I'm only doing favors," the American grinned, poking the Brit's nose. "Just wait and see. Those two are gonna be an item by next week!"

"You bloody went too far with the sex thing! I mean... why did you have to..." the British blushed softly.

_Why did you have to be so fucking good in bed and a blasted pain in the arse?_

"Is someone jealous?" the American smirked. "If you want, I can fix you up with someone. Just name 'em, and I'll fix 'em!"

Arthur just glared at him. Alfred was the most annoying person he has ever met. He talked too much and he was too loud. Was this actually the same person the British slept with last night? The same person who didn't remember diddly squat about what they did? "I'll pass," Arthur said turning away from the burger loving twit.

"Don't be like that! There's love for everybody out there!"

The British turned back to the American. "I mean I'll pass as in I'm not going out tonight. I'm heading home."

"Aw, c'mon! I won't drink. I don't even like sake!"

"If he doesn't want to go, Alfred-san, he does not have to," Kiku spoked, trying to end the discussion which will turn into an argument soon. "We're going to meet Antonio-san and the others there anyway."

"Aw, it won't be the same," Alfred pouted playfully.

Arthur stepped out the elevator as soon as the doors opened. "Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen," the Brit said over his shoulder going to his car.

"Well send you sushi," the American called.

"Don't bother." Arthur got in his car. He took a shaky sigh after he closed the door. He looked up from his rearview mirror, watching his coworkers walking further down the garage to their vehicles. He leaned back against his seat. The Brit was feeling awkward and uncomfortable all day. And when Alfred was around or someone brought up his name, the Brit felt worse. He grasped his keys, deep in thought. Last night was a huge mistake. It went too far. It was the worse experience the British man ever had. "Bloody hell..." Arthur was lying to himself. Not wanting to admit it, Arthur thought it was incredible. No matter how much he wanted to deny it. The thought of being thrown in bed last night and having the American's heavy weight on top of him. The way his alcoholic breath was breathing down the British's neck. The American's hands, which were surprisingly soft, exploring his body from head to toe. Pinning Arthur down, giving strong, sharp thrust. No matter how much the Brit kept resisting, he loved each and every penetrable thrust from start to finish. Alfred, the most annoying coworker in the company, was** highly** experienced with sex. Whoever came before the Brit, must have had some amazing tales to tell about their night with the git. How many people had the American been with? Did he sleep with other coworkers in the past? Arthur didn't even know the brute was homosexual. Then again, the Brit didn't know he himself was homosexual. But that didn't make any sense. He had never felt attractive around men in his life. For all he knew, Alfred might not be into guys either. Who knows how Alfred would react if he ever found out he had sex with his coworker. Last night was accidental sex. So that wouldn't make him gay. But if the Brit **really **enjoyed it, then he **must **be gay, right? "Bollocks..." the Brit cursed grasping the steering wheel just as tight as he closed his eyes, trying to get that idea out of his head. "I cannot possibly be attractive to that wanker... no matter how fucking amazing he was in bed! He's immature, stupid, and outrageously..." The British paused and looked down, his pants feeling tight. "Ah, blimey!" he angrily cried. The Brit's erection tented his pants once again. Alfred... was a stupid and immature addiction. Alfred was like a drug, and the Brit couldn't get enough of him. "Blimey!" The Brit threw up his hands in frustration. He leaned his elbow against the window and rest his head on his hand. His free hand was resting on his knee drumming his fingers. He glared down at his lump in disappointment. He just needed some release... just a little release. Just a quickie. The Brit took his hand slowly aiming for his crotch. The horny British man cupped his covered crotch, rubbing it slowly and letting out a started moan. It wasn't the same, but it would have to do. The Brit turned his head looking through each window to make sure no one was coming. He turned back front, closed his eyes panting small breaths as he rubbed himself more. The more he rubbed, the warmer his body felt. It was throbbing uncontrollably, suffocating, wanting to be let out, wanting to be released desperately. This was how the Brit was suppose to respond if he was with a woman... not a man. It was all his fault, the Brit thought. If that twit just stayed asleep, this wouldn't be happening. "That... damn American," he breathed, unbuttoning his pants.

_**-KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK-**_

Arthur jumped from the loud banging noise. The noise awarded him with his knee connecting to the steering wheel, along with a swear word and a long blow from his car horn by his angry fist from the pain of his knee. The British turned his head angrily out his car window but then he turned paled seeing a tall figure waving happily at him. He was greeted by another one of his coworkers. It was the sweet, yet creepily odd Russian friend Ivan.

"Hello, Arthur!" The Russian's voice muffled from behind the thick glass window. "I have caught you!"

The Brit's face turned bright red. Did he see? How long was he there? The nervous Brit took his keys and started the car so he could roll down the electronic window to hear him clearer.

_Bollocks... bollocks... bollocks..._

Ivan Braginski was weird in a way that others feared he would snap one day. When something negative came the Russian's way, he would only smile. **All **the time. Everyone knew that it probably wouldn't be long before the Russian came in the building holding everyone hostage. Even his innocent childish-like look disturbed the coworkers. He would tease and joke mostly at his favorite target Toris. Toris wouldn't even stay in the same room with the man, and he managed to have Roderich excuse him from coming to any of the monthly meetings. Who would have thought the nice ones were actually the scary ones?

The British was sweating bullets. He just stared up at him while pulling on his collar to let the cool air hit his skin. He was busted, and by a man who is probably the scariest person who had ever to walk the planet Earth. "Ivan..." Arthur looked up at the grinning giant and swallowed hard. "This isn't... I mean... I was... oh bloody hell..."

"You do remember package I let you hold onto the other day, no?" the Russian asked, looking like nothing strange happened moments ago.

"...oh." Arthur blinked, looking very dumbfounded. "That gift bag you gave me."

Well, so many close calls today...

"Yes! Yes!" Ivan replied happily. "I would like to have it now and leave it at office before they close building."

"Oh... right." The Brit cleared his throat to hide his cracked voice. "One moment, please." Arthur reached over his glove compartment to retrieve the mystery item that was in a small bag. The bag was beautifully colored with shiny red and gold random patterns with red and gold decorative paper sticking out of the bag for a nice touch. He took the small bag and gave it to the Russian.

"Thank you so much for doing this, Arthur!" Ivan smiled. "You are doing such wonderful favor, no?"

"There's no need for thanks," the Brit held up his hand, not wanting to accept the Russian's praise. Seriously... he **really **didn't want to.

This wasn't the only time Arthur was doing favors for the tall man. This procedure had been going on for the past month now. Every other day the Russian had something different for the Brit to secretly hold on to. And by the end of the day, the Russian would let Arthur know he was ready to take the item back to the office. Different sized boxes wrapped nicely in bows, beautifully designed gift bags. And each time the colors of the wrapped presents were red and gold. After holding on to the Russian's gift the third time that day, Arthur had a hunch that Ivan had a huge crush on someone. And whoever this person was must really love red and gold.

"Well, off I go!" Ivan said with confidence. "Thank you, Arthur."

The Brit watched the tall man go back to the elevator. After the Russian pressed a number inside the elevator, he looked up seeing the Brit still watching him. He smiled adorably, waving as the doors closed completely sending him up to his destination. Arthur shivered a bit, hating that smile. Cute, yet creepy. He sighed, looking down at his unbuttoned pants, his bulge no longer noticeable after that encounter. "You are going to be the death of me," he said frowning at it.

* * *

**CryHOg, stop making short chapters! You're a stupid fanfic writing whore!**

**Dun worry guys. The next chapter will be uploaded shortly! ...Now don't you feel guilty for lashing out at me?**

_**See the stars (*)!**_

_**1)**__ "Let's eat at Umi's tonight," (*) came a familiar and annoying voice_: **(Umi's is this amazing Sushi bar back at my home town in MS. It's been open for 6 years so far, and it's probably the best place I've ever been to next to Sakura back in GA, but I go to the Sakura further down town cuz the ppl there are friendlier)**

**Okay, peepoles! Sit tight- chapter 4 will be edited and uploaded shortly...**

**Be safe!**

**-Cry**


	4. Chapter 4

_**What did you have for breakfast today, Author?: **_

_NONE OF YOU DAMN BUSINESS!_

_NOW READ THE FUKCIN' STORY 'FORE I KICK YO' ASS!_

_...bitch._

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**__**(Eggs and toast, anyone? :D)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 4)~**

**00000000**

'_If you used the prescription 'Boogugu' and had a history of __**death**__, please call this number-'_

_-click-_

'_On the next Pinky Brown Show: Wives who love their ant farms more than their bosses they're having an affair with!'_

_-click-_

'_Dad?'_

'_Yes, son?'_

'_Have you ever kissed a boy?'_

'_Well... no, son. Did you... kiss a boy at your school?'_

'_No, dad.'_

'_Did you see your friend kiss another boy?'_

'_No.'_

'_....on TV?'_

'_No, sir.'_

'_Then why did you ask, son?'_

'_Because I saw mom kissed a boy at my school.'_

'_...'_

'_Tonight only on Afterlife Time Movie Network... the talk about original movie premiere: 'Lipstick on My Barney Pajamas.''_

"Blimey..."

Arthur was channel surfing for an hour all that evening, and nothing good was on. Giving up, he turned off his HDTV and decided to call it a night. It was only 9PM, but he wasn't going out tonight. He wasn't planning to. As soon as he made it back to his apartment complex, he stripped off his work clothes, leaving a trail to the bathroom. He took a nice, long hot shower and slipped on his white T-shirt and boxers. He had a bottle of beer and laid back on his comfy couch the rest of the day. It was a relaxing evening, getting away from work and stress. He got up from his couch, chugging down the rest of his beer, and went to the kitchen tossing the empty bottle in the trash bin. He yawned and stretched as he walked to his bedroom. The tired Brit pulled back the covers of his bed and laid down pulling the sheets over him. He sighed, loving how the cold sheets hit his body. His eyes fluttered softly, drifting off to slumber land.

_-riiiiiinggg- _

The British opened his eyes hearing his phone go off. He grunted, rolling on his side. He reached over his night stand and fetched his cell phone. He pressed a random button and placed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Arthur-san? This is Kiku."_

The British sat up sighing.

"Hello, Kiku," Arthur replied, sounding bored. "How was Umi's?"

_"It was... interesting."_

The Brit blinked.

"Alright..." Arthur lifted a thick brow, knowing something was up. And he was sure it had something to do with the American idiot.

_"Um... Arthur-san..."_

"Yes....?"

There was a long pause.

"Kiku?"

_"No, no, no! Not there!"_

"But I gotta goooooo..."

Arthur blinked more, hearing another voice in the background.

_"You will get in trouble. Get away from there... please Alfred-san!"_

"I can't hold it, man!"

Arthur sat up more from his bed making an odd face. "Kiku, what the bloody hell is going on out there?"

_"Please forgive me for calling on such short notice, Arthur-san. It's Alfred-san."_

"What happened?"

_"He is very drunk"_

_"Who ya talkin' to?" _the drunk American was heard asking very loudly in the background.

"But I thought the wanker didn't drink that sake stuff." Arthur blinked.

_"We went to the bar afterwards. The others went home, but Alfred still wanted to have more fun. I told him not to have too much tonight, but he wouldn't listen. He got in a fight with someone."_

_"And I kicked his ass! WHOOOO!"_

_"We got kicked out of the bar. I have been trying to get him to get in my car so I can take him home, but he is not listening to me, Arthur-san. He's being very difficult."_

_"Your mom's being difficult!" _the drunk man giggled.

_"You will not speak about my mother that way, Alfred-san! Now, apologize this instant!"_

The Japanese man continued arguing at Alfred over the phone while the drunk American was making Kiku angrier. Arthur sighed using his free hand to massage his temple. His head was starting to hurt. Why did he always feel like the father figure? He didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want to get involved. Mostly, he didn't want to see Alfred.

_"Alfred-san, please do not use it there!"_

_"It's that jerk off's car! I'm gonna piss in his tank! Cover me, will ya?"_

"Bollocks..." the Brit sighed, getting out of bed. "Kiku, just sit tight. I'm on my way."

_"Domo..."_ the Japanese man replied, sounding relieved.

Just as the Brit was getting ready to disconnect his phone, he was hearing the Japanese man crying out over the phone.

_"Alfred-san, stop it!"_

_"The deed is done! WHOOOO!"_

"Oh, bugger..." The Brit sighed rolling his eyes.

_-beep-_

**00000000**

Arthur and Kiku stared at each other making faces as they were helping their drunk friend lean over his toilet to vomit his guts out. The bathroom was starting to reek of beer and Alfred's chewed food of sushi and his three hamburgers he had for lunch earlier at work. It seems as though Alfred's addiction to alcohol was getting much worse. According to the burger lover, he said he would **only **drink when he was eating out with his coworkers and assured them that it wasn't an everyday thing.

Arthur was once a heavy drinker. He would drink just about everyday. When he was drunk, he was more mean and crankier than he was sober. He finally decided to tone it down after he made a bad move one night when he was out with Ludwig, Feliciano, Alfred, and a few other coworkers at a bar. Arthur had just about enough of Alfred's teasing. He was fed up and was ready to head home. The Italian offered to help the drunk Brit when he was stumbling out of his chair. Arthur thought it was the burger lover touching him and swore at the innocent pasta lover and pushed him roughly to the floor. When the drunk realized it was Feliciano on the sticky floor with bubble tears in his eyes, he was greeted by the German's fist. The next day when he was fully sober, he took himself and his black eye to Feliciano's apartment and apologized. He never felt so sorry. He thought the Italian was annoying, but he never meant to hurt him. Feliciano, being as nice as he always was, gave him a tight hug and accepted his apology. The former alcoholic decided to drink at least once a day. He would also keep it to a minimum whenever he was out with his coworkers.

"Alfred-san?" Kiku said gently patting the American's back.

"Nhh..." was all the drunk American could get out. His throat was burning, and his voice was hoarse. He was too exhausted after throwing up over the past twenty minutes. He just wanted to lean his head against the toilet seat and just stay there all night.

The Brit looked down at the young drunk and shook his head. He grabbed the nearly passed out drunk by the arm and pulled him up a bit. "Alfred," he said to the American... almost too gently, "let's take you to bed."

"Nnh..." the American replied. Kiku took Alfred's other arm. On the count of three, the two sober men lifted Alfred and half dragged and half-carried him to his bedroom. Kiku let go of Alfred and walked over to his bed, pulling his sheets back. The drunk burger lover was finally in bed.

"Should we give him anti hang over pills?" Kiku asked quietly.

"Fuck, I forgot," the Brit sighed. "One moment." Arthur left the bedroom heading back to the bad smelling bathroom. Plugging his nose, he went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the pills. The Brit could hear the drunk American murmured something in the other room but couldn't make out what he was saying. Seconds later he heard Kiku talking, but could be heard barely. The Japanese man was always soft spoken. Arthur goes to the kitchen to fix a glass of water. How many times did he poured the twit a glass of water when he came to his apartment? How many times had he been babying him whenever he got drunk? The British man was getting sick of it. He couldn't recall when Alfred's drinking habit gotten worse. He was more of a pain sober than he was drunk to the British. The Brit had a friend back in Scotland who was much of a wreck as well when he drinks. Just like Alfred, he had to baby the Scot and sober him up. If Arthur ever had to look after both the drunks one day, he knew it would be a huge hassle. Arthur's lips curved into a small smile, wondering how the brother figure was doing. He hoped to visit him again soon. But right now it was time to care for the bratty one in the bedroom. Rolling his eyes, he walked back to the bedroom. He walked in on the young drunk leaning over his bed vomiting in the trash bin. The Japanese man held it out for him in one hand and rubbed the drunk man's back with the other. It all felt so similar. The same routine. The same night. Only this wasn't Thursday night. It was Friday night. "It feels like a fucking Thursday," the Brit said out loud, walking in.

"It does feel like it," Kiku replied, nodding.

Alfred weakly chuckled in the trash bin.

"Stop your laughing, you bastard!" Arthur frowned, walking over to the drunk. He smacked Alfred in the back of the head while it was still in the trash bin.

Alfred pulled his head away from the trash rubbing the back of his head. "Ow..." the drunk winced.

"You caused a lot of trouble for Kiku tonight! You carelessly intoxicated yourself, got into a bloody fight, pissed in a man's gas tank, and you're just sitting here, laughing your arse off like it's a fucking game!"

"I didn't even know I was playing 'the game'," Alfred snickered. "Now we all lost."

"...I'm going to kill you and take your corpse to a place where not even the professionals can find it."

Alfred smiked. "You do know what most killers do to their victim's body before getting rid of them right?" he asked.

Arthur was clenching the glass of water tighter and tighter.

Kiku put the trash bin down and walked over to Arthur taking the glass away from him. "Arthur-san, you can go home now. I'll take care of Alfred-san to make sure he takes the pills."

The British thought that was a good idea, but then decided against it. If Kiku had a hard time getting Alfred to listen to him when they were at the bar, there was probably no way he'll be able to handle him in his own home. "Just go on home, Kiku," he answered taking the glass back from him. "I'll take care of the wanker."

"Are you sure?" Kiku blinked. He knew Arthur couldn't stand the American. He wouldn't mind giving the Brit a break from Alfred's behavior.

"Just leave. Trust me. I can deal with him."

"If you are sure." The Japanese yawned. This night and Alfred really tired the man out. He turned to the nodding off American. "Alfred-san? Be sure to take your medicine and drink plenty of water."

"Yes, dear," Alfred teased.

"Goodnight, Arthur-san. Do not kill him."

"We'll see," Arthur answered glaring hard at the drunk man slowly passing out. Kiku pulled his car keys out from his pocket, bowed goodbye to them, and left the bedroom. Seconds later the front door was heard opened and closed shut. Arthur walked over to the drunk and stood on the side of his bed. He placed the glass of water down on his night stand. He leaned over to the sleeping drunk and roughly patted his cheeks a few times to make him come to.

Alfred grunted waking up from the slaps. He stared up at Arthur and a tired grin appeared on his face.

"Wanna have a slumber party, Gov'nor?" Alfred teased with a British accent.

Arthur took out the small bottle, poured two pills in his hand, and roughly held them out in front of the drunk's face. He placed his free hand on his hip and had his head turned away from his "patient". "Take them," the Brit ordered.

Alfred blinked then smirks. He reached out taking both pills and popped them in his mouth. He turned to his glass of water and stared back at the frowning British.

"Drink it." The Brit ordered once more.

The drunk did what he was told. He took the glass and started drinking it down staring up at the Brit still. He pulled the glass away from his lips and placed it back on his night stand. He tiredly looked back up at the quiet British, wondering what he was thinking.

"Goodnight," Arthur murmured as he started to walk out the room.

Something grabbed his wrist, making him stop.

The startled Brit turned to see Alfred holding his wrist tightly with an unreadable expression.

"You hate me."

The Brit wasn't too sure if the drunk was asking him or stating it. Either way, he said it. "I don't hate you," Arthur answered. And it was the truth. Wait, did he really not hate the annoying American?

"You don't?" The American murmured, then smirked.

"No..." the Brit answered slowly, looking up at the ceiling in thought just to be sure he was positive of his answer. Then he looked back at the drunk and added, "I just find you very annoying."

_And good in bed. _

"Prove it."

The Brit sighed with annoyance, turning his whole body to the drunk his wrist still held tightly. "Alfred," he began, "if I **really **hated someone, I wouldn't talk to them."

"So..." Alfred spoke. "Since you're talking to **me**, that means you don't hate me? Right?"

Arthur nodded. "Just annoying as hell." he answered

_And a sex god...!_

"Do you... like me sometimes?" Alfred asked.

_Where was he going with this_, Arthur thought, getting aggravated. "It... depends, Alfred," he answered, slowly trying to pull his wrist away from Alfred's grasp.

"Like how?" Alfred held the wrist tighter.

"When you're not being an arse, not teasing me all the time, and not being nosy. I like you better that way."

_And the way you do that thing with your tongue..._

"So..." Alfred began.

_Oh, bloody hell. _

"Would you consider me for a friend or a coworker?"

Good question, the Brit thought to himself. "A coworker," Arthur answered.

_And a sex machine..._

Alfred stared at him for a moment looking as if he was deep in thought.

Arthur thought he can make an escape while the drunk twit was distracted, but his hold was still tight. He then got a little startled when he heard Alfred laugh a bit.

"Well, I suppose that's better than being your enemy." Alfred grinned.

Arthur nodded finally pulling his wrist free. "Get some sleep," the Brit said. "You'll sobered up tomorrow morning."

"Do ya hafta go?" Alfred asked sounding a little sad.

"It's late, Alfred. And I'm bloody tired. Go to sleep. I'll... call you." The Brit stressed the word 'call' a little uneasy. He never called Alfred. He never had an reason to. With another exhausting sigh, the Brit turned and walked toward the doorway.

"If it's late, then stay," the drunk replied. "You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch if you want. It's comfy!"

The Brit paused at the doorway. His heart was fluttering uncontrollably. His breathing was increasing. His body was growing hot. His manhood was...

It was Friday night, 11:57PM. Three minutes to 12. Three more minutes before a new day. A new morning. A new present.

_No... no... no... bloody hell no!_

"Alfred," the Brit murmured back still turned from the young drunk. "I have to go."

"Pleeeassseee?"

The Brit clenched his jaw tight, and his eyes closed shut, trying to get the images of early Friday morning's incident out of his head. An amazing incident. It was an amazing incident that should have never happen in the first place. But it did. And it was good. So... goddamn good. "Alfred, go to bed," the Brit ordered forcefully, as he turned. "I said I will..." The Brit's face paled and he froze in place seeing the drunk American standing over him. How did he not hear him get up? When did this happen? What was going to happen? The drunk Alfred looked down at the trembling Brit with an unreadable expression. He reached out his hand cupping the sober man's chin. He slowly brushed a thumb across his lips. Arthur couldn't help but shiver in response of the soft touch.

"Take the bed," the American said quietly. "I'll take the couch."

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and carefully nodded. "A...alright," he answered quietly.

The two continued to stare at each other quietly. The Brit was too nervous and afraid to move. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or scared shitless by the drunk's blue eyes looking down on him.

"You sure you don't hate me?" The American was the first to speak.

The Brit frowned slightly. "Yes," he answered slowly. "I don't... hate you."

"Prove it."

The Brit frowned deeper. "Alfred, I told you, if I hated you I wouldn't be talking to you."

"Give me more proof," Alfred replied, tilting the Brit's chin a little higher.

"What more proof do you fucking need?"

"Stay for the night."

"I bloody said okay," Arthur said, getting annoyed and not feeling nervous anymore.

"I'll make breakfast tomorrow."

"Fine. Now, get back to bed."

"I'm taking the couch, remember?"

"Whatever! Just fucking go and leave me be!" the Brit cried pulling his chin away from the man's soft hand. He brushed passed the drunk and walked toward the bed. Something warm grabbed the Brit's hand. Arthur gasped and turned around. Before he could react, he was greeted by a pair of soft lips forcing against his. Strong arms wrapped around his waist. Hips pressed against his. Arthur tried fighting the drunk off him. Pushing, pounding his fist on his... hard chest... "Al-mmh," the Brit managed to get out in mid-kiss, "Sto-mh..." The dazed Brit just realized he was laying on the bed with the drunk on top. How did they end up in bed already? Weren't they just standing a few moments ago?

"Stay..." the American murmured nibbling the Brit's neck.

"You horny bastard!" The Brit hissed. Of course, the Brit was horny as well. And he wanted it no matter how much he was resisting.

"Do you wanna go home?" the American panted as he unbuttoned the Brit's shirt, trailing kisses down his exposed torso.

The Brit looked up at the pale white ceiling. He opened his mouth, but not one word dared escaped his lips.

"Do you want me to stop?" The drunk asked as he moved down to his pants, unfastening them, slipping them pass the shivering Brit's hips.

The Brit opened his mouth again, a cracking noise escaping his throat. No response.

12:00AM... early Saturday morning.

**00000000**

"Relax..."

"Shut up and put it in you-AH!" the Brit's back arched feeling his drunk partner roughly shoving himself inside. No lubrication. The desperate, horny Brit didn't care. He wanted to feel the burn, the stinging, the uncomfortable pressure of the American's muscle pounding him over and over and over. Faster. Deeper. Harder. Again and again. "Don't hold back, dammit..." Arthur grunted, grasping the bed covers underneath him.

"What's the hurry?" the drunk murmured in mid-thrust. "We have all night." He leaned his head lower pressing his lips against the Brit's panting ones. The Brit grunted in his mouth, kissing back. The American really knew how to work his tongue. The Brit was truly convinced that he wasn't Alfred's first. The drunk broke the kiss half way looking down at his panting partner. "Moan more," he told the Brit. "You make cute sounds."

"Shut the fuck up and go harder-UUH!"

"Much better," the drunk chuckled, pounding harder. "How's that?"

"Fucking... good!" The young drunk leaned his head kissing the Brit again.

A new night. An early Saturday morning. Arthur was having sex with his coworker Alfred for the second time. His annoying coworker, who was amazing in bed, was driving the Brit to ecstasy. Heaven. Maybe even hell. Hell because his whole body felt like it was on fire. The more the drunk pounded him, the more he touched, tasted, and licked the Brit, the more it felt like the fire increased. The burn was so good, so intense, Arthur didn't want it to go out.

"Arthur," the drunk American moaned out. "I'll..."

The flame was dying.

"Wait... not yet, wanker..."

With a final combustion...

"Arthur... can't hold it!"

"Not yet... fuck... not yet, Alfred!"

The flame was gone.

* * *

**Oh wow... I still flail at** **sex scenes. But since starting on this second fanfic I've been feeling better since I ended Garlic Breath.** **Shoot, I hope these chapters are okay. I've been working on them since eight this morning. It's not 4PM. Haha! Got more chaps comin' up! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Be safe!**

**-Hoggy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, Author:**

_......._

**Author?**

_........_

**AUTHOR!**

_Huh? Oh... sorry. I was just admiring my nails... it's not every day I managed to keep them this long and not one of them broke off. I guess eating healthier food really pays off. _

_Bless you, Tyson's® Anytizers._

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (Call me... why won't you call me?)**_

**BFFF **

**~(Chapter 5)~**

**00000000**

_The Brit wasn't sure why he was visiting Feliciano's cubicle. Why would he be talking to him? Unless it had something to do with work? For some reason, they were just having a conversation. Then suddenly, someone placed a six-tier cake on the Italian's desk. It had a wacky 'Alice in Wonderland' look to it. Each tier was designed with polka dots and stripes, and it looked like the cake was going to tip over. Immediately, they began eating it, using their bare hands without forks that just so happen to be right next to the cake. It tasted horrible, but they continued to dine-in like it was the last cake in the world. The Brit heard someone called out that if the cake wasn't gone before the boss came in, they would all get fired. The Italian and the Brit wasted no time and stuffed their faces with the disgusting cake as quickly as possible. _

"_Make haste!" Another coworker named Francis ordered. He appeared out of nowhere. He was nude and had a rose covering his genital area. "The zombies will be here any minute, yes-no?" _

"_It would be nice if you helped us, Francis-san!" Kiku leaped down from one of the cubicles with a samurai sword at hand. Suddenly, several zombies appeared charging at the swordsman. The Japanese man casually removed his neck tie with one hand before taking out the first three zombies that approached him. Gracefully, he cut through them, their limbs falling to the floor. One zombie appeared behind him and grabbed him by the shoulder getting ready to sink his teeth into the Japanese man's flesh. Just when Kiku was about to fight the undead creature off him, a bullet pierced through the monster's head. It died right before it hit the floor. Kiku looked up, seeing a tall figure approaching him. It was Ludwig, filthy and bloody like he came from a war. He was wearing a dirty blue cap, worn leather gloves, a torn green tank top, matching cargo jeans that were ripped from one knee, and muddy combat boots. He was holding up a revolver that he just fired. He looked exhausted, but determined. _

"_I rather see hell freeze over than having you sons of bitches roam around aimlessly in our company!" The blond cried angrily before he pistol whipped another zombie when it charged at him. _

"_Ludwig-san!" Kiku cried, happy to see the blond came to the rescue. "You're okay!" _

"_We're not out of the woods yet," the German replied, narrowing his eyes at the other zombies up ahead. "Let's take them out!" the blond ordered, running over to the starving undead bunch. _

"_Yes, Ludwig-san," Kiku answered, trailing right behind. Gun shots and unsheathed swords were heard all across the office. Seconds later, another coworker named Antonio appeared next to the Frenchman, wearing a bright orange silk button down shirt, and tight black slacks. _

"_Senor Francis, dance with me!" He told the nude man. _

"_Ah! Oui, monsieur!" Francis accepted, bowing to the Spanish man. Antonio grabbed the naked Frenchman by the hand, twirled him to his chest. The Spanish man wrapped an arm around Francis's bare waist and grasped his hand, holding it out. Cheek to cheek, the duo tangoed down the cubicle aisle. Later, Ivan appeared running down the aisle, having Toris on his back. The tall Russian had his arms spread out making airplane sounds. The Lithuanian was giggling asking the Russian to go faster. _

"_Wheeeee!" Toris was heard crying happily further down the office. _

_The cake eaters just continued devouring the cake like nothing happened. The Italian turned to Arthur with frosting all over his face, looking like a toddler. _

"_Arthur?" Feliciano called happily._

"_What?" The Brit answered, still eating the cake._

"_I have to ask you a very important question-ve."_

"_What is it?"_

_The Italian had some cake in his hand and smeared it all over his face before he continued. "Well... I was wanting to know... can you turn into an umbrella?"(*)_

"_Are you mad? Of course I can!"_

_-clink-_

Arthur openedhis eyes with an odd look on his face. What a weird, ass dream, he thought. His eyes trailed around his surroundings, remembering he was still at his coworker's apartment. He was laying on the couch. It was quite comfy, and he slept well the rest of the night. Last night after the coworkers' fuck-fest, Arthur slipped away from the passed out American's arms. He slipped his clothes back on first, and he managed to slip the drunk's boxers and pants back on. Alfred was a lot heavier than he looked to the Brit. Arthur was almost ready to leave the apartment, but something held him back. Instead, he slept on his coworker's beige color couch. He wondered if the twit would even remember what happened last night. The Brit wasn't even sure why he decided to stay. Even though his butt was even more sore than before, he would have thought he might have taken the chance to hightail it out of there again. Why did he stay? Was it because the bastard asked him to? Was it just to see if Alfred was going to bring up last night? Or was it because he would feel a little guilty if he left?

_Wait, why the bloody hell should__** I **__feel guilty. That git made a pass on __**me**__. __**I **__should be the victim here! He banged me two nights in a row, and God knows if he'll even remember this one. Blimey! I don't even know anymore!_

The Brit was too relaxed and comfortable to even care right now. Sighing, he pulled the blanket over his head. Arthur couldn't help but to notice how warm and cozy the blanket felt. It even had Alfred's scent. It was the same spicy cologne that had the Brit weak and melting underneath his partner last night. He looked down at the blanket and paused. The thin blanket that he was sleeping on somehow grew overnight. Arthur blushed softly. Did the American give him an extra blanket while he was asleep?

_-crack-_

The Brit turned his head around, hearing a noise in the kitchen. He blushed more, seeing his partner with his back turned making breakfast. The smell of pancakes, bacon, biscuits, eggs, coffee, and orange juice filled the air. The tired Brit's eyes widen with amazement, watching the master cook never slowing his pace. He watched how he beat the eggs with one hand and flipping the omelet over in the frying pan with the other. The now sober Alfred still had on last night's pants, and he was shirtless. The Brit stared at his long back. It was so lean and strong. The same back Arthur wrapped his arms around and dug his fingernails into when the git was grinding his...

_Son of a...._

The flushed Brit closed his eyes, turned away from the sex figure, and sunk back into the covers. The blanket covered him from the mouth down. The spicy scent filled his nostrils. Arthur closed his eyes, inhaling it slowly. The thought of last night was still running through his mind. The sex was even better than the first time. The lazy Brit wondered if the git was just as good when he was sober. Arthur frown and pushed the blanket away from his face.

_Get outta my head! _

_-clink-_

More noises were heard behind the Brit. His stomach growled from the American's cooking. He was starving. What time was it, he wondered? He then heard the American's footsteps leaving the kitchen and heading toward the living room. Blushing, Arthur shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He could just feel the twit stopping right by the couch, looking down at him, watching him sleep. He could feel the smug look on the wanker's face.

"You keep turning red like that, and steam is going to shoot out of your ears."

The Brit's thick eyebrows forked downward into a frown. He opened his green eyes, seeing a bright blue pair staring happily back at him. Alfred wasn't wearing his glasses. He was leaning forward resting a hand on one knee and holding a spatula in the other. The Brit couldn't help but to take a glimpse of the man's bare chest. Alfred was fully toned and muscular. He didn't think the American worked out. How could he eat so many burgers and not gain a single pound?

_This is my first time seeing him in the light... crikey! He's the hulk's bloody nephew! The arms, the pecs, and is that... six... seven... an eight pack? Bloody hell! _

"I heard your stomach growling all the way from across the kitchen," the non glasses wearing man told him with a chuckle. "Come eat."

"Leave me be," the Brit mumbled, turning his eyes away from the sculptured man before he had the urge to pounce him. He pulled the blanket back over his head. "I'm not hungry."

On cue, Arthur's stomach growled the second time.

"Then what do you call that growl?" The American asked teasingly. "A 'tea time growl'?"

"Piss off," the Brit murmured underneath the blanket.

Alfred softly chuckled in reply. He sat up and walked down the hallway. "I boiled some water for your hot tea," the sober American called out as he headed for his room. "I already have a plate fixed for you. Don't let it get cold."

Giving up, the Brit let out a sigh and pulled the blanket off him. Wincing, he lazily and painfully rolled off the couch and walked to the kitchen. He walked over to the table where his plate was. Everything on the plate looked so good to the Brit that his stomach growled again. The Brit snarled when he heard the American coming back to the kitchen snickering. He looked over at the sober man then looked back at their plates. He noticed the American didn't touch his food yet. He figured the man was waiting on him. _At least he has some manners_, Arthur thought. The Brit grabbed the black mug that had a tea bag ready for him and walked over to the stove. He took the tea kettle and poured the hot water all the way to the top.

"You like Earl Gray, right?" The American asked, going over to the table and sitting down.

The Brit looked over and saw that the American was slipping on a shirt. He was relieved that the git put that beef cake of his away. "Um, yes," Arthur answered quietly as he walked back over to the table and carefully placed his sore bottom on the hard wooden chair. "Thank you."

"Sure."

The two men sat and ate quietly. Occasionally, the shy Brit would secretly look up and watched the American. He was surprised the twit wasn't running his mouth, since he was best at that. The Brit couldn't believe how amazing the food was. He was already down to his second plate. The American was good in bed **and **a good cook. Arthur thought his own cooking wasn't half bad either. Not many people would agree... well, no one who tried Arthur's cooking agreed. The Brit frowned softly, feeling jealous that the American would be good at something like cooking. He wondered if his mother taught him. He was sure Alfred was a mama's boy.

"Is it okay?"

The Brit looked up from his plate, hearing his coworker speak. "Um, yes. I must say it's quite enjoyable."

"Awesome! Glad you like it!" Alfred beamed happily, almost favoring Feliciano. "I didn't think you'd still be here. I was in the middle of making breakfast, and I looked over and saw you wrapped up in that thin blanket like a cocoon with blond hair sticking out. You shoulda seen yourself!"

The Brit rolled his eyes as the git laughed out. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," he snorted, grabbing his mug. "You don't look your best either when you're sleeping, you know." The Brit took a long sip of his tea after muttering "wanker" under his breath.

"Really?" Alfred chuckled as he picked at his eggs. "I was going to add that you look kinda cute when you were sleeping." The American chuckled some more before he stuffed a fork full of eggs in his mouth.

The Brit looked up at him, his cheek turning a shade of pink. "Cute?" He asked, lifting a thick eyebrow.

"Yeah! Cute like a sleeping baby!"

Arthur continued staring at the American, trying to read his expression. It was hard to tell what the git was thinking with him stuffing his cheeks like a squirrel. The Brit had to try something. "I take it that you slept well?" he asked the American.

Alfred swallowed his food and washed it down with a glass of orange juice before he answered. "Yup!"

Arthur drummed his fingers on his mug. "Do you remember... anything at all?"

Alfred grinned, putting down his glass and blushing a bit and shaking his head. Then he started cackling.

The Brit blinked, staring at him. Was he going to crack? Did he know something?

"I pissed in a guy's tank," the American laughed out. "I was really wasted, wasn't I?"

"You gave Kiku a hard time with your stupidity." The Brit frowned.

"Yeah," Alfred's laughter died down. "I should call and apologize later."

"See that you do."

"I will. Don't worry." The burger lover grinned again, eating a strip of bacon.

Arthur was watching the man grin like a buffoon. He had to remember something if he was grinning like that. "What else do you remember?" he asked him, lifting a thick eyebrow the second time this morning.

Alfred put down his half-eaten bacon strip and looked up, deep in thought. "Hm... I remember you arriving at the parking lot and called me a halfwit Yankee."

The Brit sighed in frustration. It didn't make any since that this damn coworker of his remembered bits and pieces of last night. Unless the man was given a date rape, Arthur just couldn't believe he forgot the bigger incident. The Brit needed to know. "Do you remember **anything **after Kiku and I helped you in the apartment and putting you to bed?"

The American rested his chin on his hand, thinking.

Arthur's eyebrow started twitching, getting impatient.

"Nope," the sober man answered simply, reaching over and grabbing a biscuit. "Last thing I remember was you two helping me to the toilet."

The Brit, angrily dropped his fork, letting it clatter on his half empty plate. "Alfred, I know you were very drunk, but there has to be something else you remembered that happened... something out of the ordinary... now, think!"

The American's grin returned again.

"The hell are you grinning about now?" Arthur asked angrily.

"Oh, it's..." Alfred chuckled and laughed out before he could continue. "I actually remember having this dream."

"A dream?" the Brit's eyes lit up, sounding interested.

"It was really crazy."

"Probably not as crazy as my dream," the Brit replied wiping his mouth with his napkin. "What was the dream about?"

The American laughed more. "Well... I was dreaming of having sex with someone."

The Brit clenches the mug tightly. "Who was it? Someone I know?"

The American's grin had widen. "You could say that," he answered.

"Tell me..." the Brit demanded, taking a sip of his tea.

"Okay, okay." Alfred chuckled. "I dreamed I had sex..." Alfred chuckled again before continuing. "...with Francis."

Arthur's tea went down the wrong pipe. He spewed out the hot liquid, staining the table cloth and some splattering on the startled American's shirt. "FRANCIS?' The Brit cried out, standing up from his chair. "FUCKING FRANCIS?"

"It shocked me too when I woke up," the burger lover said, grinning as he took his napkin to clean himself.

Arthur was suddenly appalled. He couldn't believe Alfred would dream about knocking up that so-called romantic sissy. "Francis?" The Brit repeated.

"Yeah. Francis." The American answered calmly.

The Brit felt like he was going to chunk his breakfast. Arthur almost felt a little hurt by that. Why should he? It wasn't like he was in love with the American, but he couldn't get that hint of jealously out of his system. "Francis?" He cried again.

"Arthur, it's just a dream," the American laughed. "I know you can't stand him, but you're acting like I said it was **you **I was having sex with."

"You fucking..." The angry Brit held up a fist, but held back. "Well... did you really?"

Alfred blinked, questionably. "Did I really what?" he asked.

"Did you two brutes fuck for real?"

"What? No!" The American laughed more. "It felt real thought."

"'It felt real!'" The Brit angrily quoted like it was poison in his mouth. "I always knew you Americans were dense, but you are the king of stupidity!"

"Whoa... Arthur, easy," Alfred blinked, not laughing anymore. "It's just a dream."

"H-How..." Arthur stuttered his words. "Fucking how, Alfred? How in fuck's name did you get me confused over that fucking..."

"?" Alfred blinked.

The Brit turned away from the confused coworker and went over to the kitchen counter, cupping his mouth with his hand. He was flushed and nervous. He let it slipped. This wasn't good.

"Wait..." the sober man spoked quietly. "So... you know?"

This time, the Brit was confused. He turned back to Alfred, lifting an eyebrow. "I know what?"

This time Alfred shut his mouth. He grabbed his orange juice. "Sit back down," the American murmured taking a sip. "Your food's getting cold."

"I know what?" The Brit repeated, walking back over to the table.

"It's not a big deal, Arthur. It's all in the past."

"I know what?"

"It was an accident. So let's just drop it."

Arthur slammed down his hands on the table making the dishes clatter. "I. KNOW. WHAT?"

Alfred looked down at his glass of juice, watching the liquid splash side to side by the Brit's violent outburst. He looked back up at the angry man with an unreadable expression. "That Thursday, you were..." the American began with a small chuckle. "You were very drunk that night. The night when you pushed Feliciano, and you thought it was me touching you?"

The Brit nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"I drove you back to your apartment. And I took you to the toilet to vomit." The sober man chuckled again. "I've never seen a man puke so much like you..."

* * *

_The American helped the drunk Brit to his bed. He pulled the covers back and laid him down._

"_Y'... fuckin' douche hole!" The drunk Brit spatted at him._

"_This is the thanks I get for driving you safely back home?" The burger lover grinned, arms folded. _

"_I've never met such a..." A hiccup. "...a rude, loud, an' despicable git like you!"_

"_Hey, I wasn't the one who punched your lights out." The burger lover chuckled as he left the room. "Do you have a bag of frozen peas in the freezer?"_

"_Dun touch mah blasted food, git!" Arthur cried as he sat up from the bed, but he got woozy and laid back down._

"_I guess this frozen steak will do." The Brit heard the American yell out from the other side. _

"_Wanker..."_

_The American came back in with a frozen steak sealed in a plastic bag._

"_T' hell are you doin' witff tha'?" he asked the American coworker angrily. _

"_Put it on your eye to stop the swelling." The American answered handing it to him. "Your face looks like it could blow up any second."_

_The Brit drunkenly glared up at the smirking American with one good eye while the other was covered with the frozen burnt meat. "Get out of mah apartment," he ordered slurry. _

"_I will after I tend to my patient." Alfred chuckled, walking over to his coworker and ruffling his hair. "I feel kinda bad for what happened tonight."_

_The drunk Brit slaps Alfred's hand away. "I'm not a fuckin' dog! Get out!"_

"_Not until the wittle pwuppy takes his medicine," the burger lover teased, talking like the Brit was a baby. "You have anti-hang over pills right?" _

_The Brit only glared at his coworker harder, wishing he could shoot lasers out of his eyes. "Fuck you," he muttered. _

_The American only chuckled before saluting with a flirting wink. "Anytime," he said_

_The Brit blinked at the American's reply questionably. With a grin, the American walked in the bathroom. __**His**__ bathroom. Arthur had the urge to strangle the man without him looking, but he was too wasted to do anything. Instead, the Brit laid back down, keeping the cold meat on his eye. All the puking and yelling at the American made him exhausted. He just wanted the annoying jerk to leave him alone so he can go to sleep._

"_Hey!" He heard his coworker called out._

_The Brit grunted annoyingly, opening his eye. "It's in t' medicine cabinet, ya... stupid git" he frowned. "Jus' like ev'ry medicine should be. Too bad they dun hav' a child safety cap made f' dicks like you!"_

"_No, not that." The American called back. The drunk could hear some water running. "I was going to say that you should apologize to Feliciano once you're all sober up tomorrow."_

"_Psh! He shouldn't have been in my blasted way!" Arthur then sighed, remembering how the poor Italian bawled out on the floor trying to figure out what he did wrong, and how the German grabbed the Brit by the shoulders, turned him around forcefully, and socked him square in the face. The last thing he remembered was coming to and laid out in the back of Alfred's car. He shook his head, feeling a little guilty for taking his anger out on the poor Italian. Even though he didn't want to, he would be sure to talk to Feliciano tomorrow. He also decided he should cut back on drinking. He was wanting to quit, but it was hard. He figured three times was a charm. The drunk pulled the cold meat away from his eye and placed it on the side of his bed. He carefully placed his hand on his soon to be black eye. The swelling went down some, but it still hurt like a bitch to the Brit. The whole left side of his face hurt. The German did have big hands, and Arthur was about the same height as Feliciano. He hated being short. Alfred, Ivan, and Ludwig were tall and it made him sick. Especially with Alfred's height he could be such a bully toward him. The American said he liked teasing people, not bullying. Either way, Arthur still hated when the American was being a dick._

"_Hey, sleepy head," the drunk heard the stupid coworker say. "Keep it on your eye."_

"_Mhh," Arthur murmured, nearly dozing off to sleep. Then he winced, feeling something cold placed on his eye. "Ah! 'S cold!"_

"_That's what happens when things are icy."_

_Arthur opened his eye again, looking up at the American who was sitting on the side of his bed. He was holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills in the other hand. _

_The Brit sighed and closed his eye again. "Place 'em on the night stand a' leave," he told his coworker._

"_If you fall asleep now, you're going to forget about them and wake up with a hang over," the American tried explaining. "Best to take them now."_

"_I got an even __**better **__idea," Arthur grunted, sitting up, still keeping the steak on his eye. "How 'bout you shove 'em up 'ur arse and leav' me tha fuck alone!"_

_Alfred blinked, then snorted, laughing. "I don't think that would help your hang over, buddy."_

_Arthur angrily put down the cold meat. "I really... __**really **__hate you," he hissed at the burger lover._

_The American only smiled, shaking his head. "You don't mean that," he replied._

"_Yes, I do! You are the scum of the earth!"_

_Alfred smirked more and leaned closer to the drunk. "I think it's the alcohol talking."_

"_Alfred, y're this-" A hiccup. "...this close t' walkin' home, wiff 'ur head shoved in 'ur arse," the Brit warned, drunkenly holding out his hand and measuring out how close the American was in danger with his index finger and thumb._

"_Arthur, if you really hate me, then prove it."_

_The Brit made a strange noise in the back of his throat, looking humorous. "Prove it, y' say?" _

"_Yeah," Alfred chuckled softly... almost too softly. "Prove it." _

_The two coworkers just stared at each other. Arthur's vision was still a little blurry and thought he saw three Alfreds. _

_The American just stared back, arms folded. "I'm waiting, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred spoke, smirking. "Otherwise, take the pills, and I'll leave you alone the rest of the night."_

_The Brit squinted his eyes trying to focus his vision. He reached over, removing Alfred's glasses. Arthur blinked a few times, not realizing how young the American looked without them. How handsome and... The Brit leaned closer toward the amused American._

"_Ya gonna break my glasses?" The American chuckled, but out of the blue he was silenced by a pair of clumsy lips. Alfred's glasses were thrown carelessly across the room, the glass of water the American was holding was slapped right out of his hand. The drunk Brit pinned the startled American to the bed, kissing him forcefully. The kiss was broken, but Arthur just kept going, sitting up and unbuttoning the dazed American's shirt._

"_Arthur?" the sober man panted. "Is this... how you hate someone?"_

"_Shut up, you git," the Brit answered, sucking on his coworker's neck and his hands clumsily unfastening his pants._

"_Arthur, I... think you should go to sleep. Do you even know what you're doing?"_

_The drunk responded by bitting down Alfred's neck. Alfred winced from the sharp bite. "What I want for you to do is shut the fuck up," he hissed on the sober man's face. The drunk Brit went back to his work, struggling to get the American's pants to unfasten. "Stupid fuckin'... pants!" Just then, another pair of hands reached down to help the desperate Brit. The belt was unbuckled with one swift move, and the button and fly of the pants was unfastened. The drunk Brit looked down at his sober partner. Alfred quietly stared back, panting quietly looking neither nervous nor afraid. He just stared with an expressionless face. He reached out a hand, cupping Arthur's good cheek. "The bloody hell are you doin'?" The drunk asked confusingly. _

"_I thought it was normal for couples to do this kind of gesture when they're intimate," Alfred replied._

"_We're not a couple, you twit."_

"_And couples don't do this either?" the American sat up and pressed his lips against Arthur's. The American slid his hand down from the Brit's cheek to his chin and forced his jaw to open. Alfred snaked his tongue inside the startled Brit's mouth, exploring the cave as much as he could. The Brit had trouble keeping up, but only managed to brush his tongue against Alfred's fast one. The American broke the kiss and pulled away, watching the dazed drunk._

"_That..." the Brit began, out of breath, "doesn't count."_

"_Exactly," Alfred replied, grinning. "Just because we're not in a relationship doesn't mean we can't hug, caress each other's cheek, kiss... or have sex." The Brit blushed, turning to the American's unfasten pants. "I mean... this __**is**__ what was going to happen, right?" The American continued._

_The Brit turned his head away, deep in thought. He was aware that he was drunk as hell, but he was also in the mood. He never felt this hot and aroused. Having the American so closed to his face, he didn't know what came over him. He wasn't falling for the git. He was just horny. Maybe curious? "I don't fuckin' know," the Brit finally answered._

"_Arthur," the American began with a soft smile. "You're horny. And thanks to your actions a few moments ago, I'm in the mood as well. Whatever you want to do is up to you. But if we go through with this, will you regret it?"_

_The Brit was deep in thought again, his head still turned away from the coworker. It could be just a one time thing, and they'll never have to speak of it again. He couldn't stand this American, but his hormones were screaming for release. Arthur was growing more and more hot, and he desperately needed a good fuck. And for once he didn't care if it was with the most annoying person in the world: Alfred F. Jones. He turned to his coworker who now looked a little serious. "When this is over," the Brit requested, "leave my apartment."_

_The American only nodded before the drunk pinned him on the bed again, attacking his lips._

* * *

"Bollocks..." the Brit murmured, shaking his head with shock.

Alfred didn't continue, knowing his coworker was aware of what happened next. He just stared at the surprised and flushed British man.

"You mean..." Arthur spoked with a quick chuckle, "you and me..."

"Had sex," the American completed his sentence.

"Heh... we had sex," Arthur said more to himself than at the American. "_**We**_...had sex."

"The next day when I asked you if you were okay, you just said 'bugger off'," the taller blond said with a shrug before continuing, "I figured you didn't want to talk about it... but I had no idea you forgot about it literally."

"I was that fucking wasted to not remember?" Arthur frowned shaking his head, not wanting to believe this. He turned to the American and frowned more. "And you! You just went ahead and had you way with me and didn't think twice that maybe if I **were **sober that **maybe **I didn't want your disgusting cock shoved back and forth in my arse!"

"Look, Arthur-"

"What the fuck were you thinking?" the Brit cried, cutting him off.

"Arthur-"

"Sure, you have the heart to give donations to the weak and helpless, having everyone think you're Mr. Perfect! Mr. Savior! An angel in fucking disguise! And behind everyone's back you go around screwing your coworkers! Have you no shame, you sick fuck?"

"You were screwing **me **that night!" The American cried over the British man's yelling.

The Brit was getting ready to carry on, but he paused. He turned to the American who was now blushing and poking around his now cold breakfast with his fork. "I beg your pardon?" the Brit said uneasily.

The American smiled and looked up at the dumbfounded Brit. "I said... you were dominating me, Arthur," he replied.

Arthur opened his mouth. And he closed it. And he opened it again. Not one word came out the Brit's trembling mouth.

"Arthur?" The American blinked. He watched as the Brit walked over to the couch and plopped down on it.

"Bollocks," he heard the Brit murmured to himself.

* * *

_**Can't say I'm not too fond of this chapter. I tried... really I did. I'll let you all decide. More chapters to come.**_

_**~see the stars (*)~**_

_**Where? Where? *looks around***_

**1) **_"I have to ask you a very important question-ve."_

"_What is it?"_

_The Italian had some cake in his hand and smeared it all over his face before he continued._

"_Well... I was wanting to know... can you turn into an umbrella?" __**(My college buddy was telling us about this weird dream he had. And he said he remembered talking on the phone with his best friend. His friend said he had to ask him an important question, and it was: "can you turn into an umbrella?" and he told him "...yes." And he woke up. It was so funny we laughed all day. My dreams are bizarre also. But I mostly have dreams about zombies, money, 9/11, and having all my teeth missing... so weird.)**_

_**Sit tight for the next chapter.**_

_**Stay tuned, fanfic-ers! **_

_**Be safe!**_

_**-Cry**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hey, Author:**__ ...Hey. I'm the author... hey. Here's another chapter for you all to flap/flick over while reading __**HOT**__**SEXNESSESESSSSES**__..... hey._

_Eee-yeah...I need a boyfriend/girlfriend._

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (Because of you ignoring me, I cut myself.)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 6)~**

**00000000**

"Fuck," the Brit hissed, storming angrily from room to room in his coworker's apartment.

"Arthur," the American was trailing behind him, trying to get the pissed coworker to calm down. "Will you relax?"

The Brit ignored him, going over to the couch and carelessly pulling out the cushions and tossing them carelessly across the room. He swore to himself, seeing what he was looking for wasn't there.

"Where the fuck is it?" He growled to himself.

"Arthur, come on," the American calmly said while getting roughly shoved out of the way by the smaller blond. He followed the muttering Brit back down the hallway. "Can we at least talk about this? You're obviously upset."

The angry Brit whipped around, facing the American who skidded to a stop. "Upset?" Arthur cried. "When am I **never **upset when shit involves around you, Alfred? You've been a pain in my bum ever since we've met!"

_My sore bum, I might add!_

"Arthur, I..." the American tried explaining before the angry Brit turned back around, storming into the burger lover's bedroom. Alfred just sighed, standing in the hallway. He threw up his arms in defeat and plopped them back to his sides. He watched as his clothes, pillows, and his action figures were thrown carelessly out of his room. Alfred then heard a loud "fuck" inside before the smaller blond came storming out. The Brit bumped rudely passed the American and headed to the kitchen. "Arthur," the American called out in the hallway, "I'm sorry that you felt that Thursday night was a huge mistake, but can I have a say in this?" The American heard angry foot steps hurried back down the hallway. He looked down seeing the fuming British, glaring daggers at him.

"There's nothing to talk about!" the Brit spatted at the taller blond. "What do you possibly have to say to make it up for that Thursday night?"

"If you're feeling guilty, Arthur, then don't," Alfred answered, shrugging and chuckling. "Because... I don't regret it."

The Brit felt his right, thick eyebrow twitching. His face scrunched up more in anger. "Why am I not surprised?" the Brit grumbled. He turned away from the American again, storming down the hallway, and throwing up his arms crying, "why am I not **fucking **surprised?"

"Arthur, it's not a big deal," Alfred said, still grinning and adjusting his glasses that he just put on after the Brit went unglued. By the end of the day, it would probably be the only thing in his apartment that will survive from the Brit's rampage. "I know you hated that it happened. But on a good note-"

"A good note?" The Brit hurried back down the hallway glaring at his coworker. "What, pray tell, would that be?"

"At least you were the pitcher."

"...."

The American never saw his coworker's face so red. Alfred blinked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean... I guess you can say that I took it... like a bitch." the taller blond added with a nervous laugh.

The Brit stayed quiet, glaring at the tall blond, wanting desperately to burn a hole through his skull. Arthur should have gone home last night. He should have told him no. He should have told the wanker to fuck off that Thursday... but not on him. He should have gone to rehab like Roderich suggested him to when he had a drinking problem. This annoying wanker, Alfred F. 'Fucking' Jones, loud and annoying, an amazing cook, and a sex beast was a....

"Git."

"Hm?"

The American heard his coworker make a soft chuckle, then it built up in a huge cackle. Alfred thought his coworker had gone mad. He was wondering if his nosy next door neighbors was listening in and trying to decide if they should call the cops. They were nosier than the American.

"Funny you should say that, Alfred," Arthur said after recovering from his laughter. Then his frown returned with clenching fists, "when I was **your **bitch two fucking nights in a row!"

Alfred blinked, surprised. "What?" he said uneasily.

"That's right," the Brit replied with a small chuckle. "Last night and the night before when I was tending to your drunk arse, you couldn't get your crummy hands off me!"

"W-wait... Arthur," the American stammered, getting nervous. "You mean... did I... I mean... did I rape you?"

"Good question, git," Arthur replied folding his arms, looking down at his own feet and shuffling them a bit before looking back up. "It could have been... but guess what? I actually **enjoyed **it! I enjoyed those two nights of you having your American dick shoved up my arse. And I'm not even gay!"

"I..." Alfred looked down at the floor, swallowing hard. The Brit didn't think he ever saw the American coworker shocked before. "I was too drunk to remember. I don't remember any of that." The American chuckled. "But last night I thought I was dreaming of-."

"Oh, that's right... you thought you were fucking Francis," the Brit replied, spatting out the French coworker's name.

"I guess this also explains why you're a little upset then."

The Brit huffed angrily, frowning and turning his head away from his coworker. He was staring at nothing in particular.

The American just stood quietly, staring at his coworker. He had always got a kick out of teasing the Brit, but he never meant to take things too far. Especially that night when he was teasing the intoxicated Arthur at the bar. He liked it when the Brit blew up whenever he pushed his buttons. He liked listening to his accent growing stronger and stronger until the American couldn't understand a word he was saying. Alfred didn't know why he liked seeing the smaller blond angry. Maybe he just found him cuter that way. Maybe he did it because he really liked him. As far back as the American could remember, he would tease and pick on his class mates at school. He didn't mean to be a bully. That was mainly his way of letting kids know that he liked them. (*) He thought he was going to grow out of it eventually. When he _thought _he finally did, he met Arthur...

* * *

"_Mr. Kirkland," Roderich called to the Brit as he and Alfred approached his cubicle, "I would like to introduce you to or newest employee. Alfred Jones."_

_The American saw the Brit turning away from his work and walked over to them. _

_Roderich was going to tell more about the new employee, but his cell phone interrupted him. "Ah..." the Austrian said as he checked his cell, "Mr. Kirkland, why don't you two get aquatinted. I have to take this call." With that, the boss hurried off, leaving the two blonds alone. _

_Arthur held out his hand to the taller blond. The American smiled and happily took it, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kirkland," he happily greeted the smaller blond._

"_It's a pleasure," the Brit replied, nodding. "Good to have you on..." The Brit paused when he heard someone snorted. The Brit stilled their hand shake and looked at the new employee. Alfred's smiling lips were quivering. The Brit frowned softly. "Is there a problem, Mr. Jon-"_

_A chuckle._

_The Brit's frown deepened. "If there's something on your mind, Mr. Jones, I would like to hear it," the Brit said, not sounding amused in the least._

_The new employee grinned, holding up his free hand in defense. "I'm sorry," he chuckled. "I just wasn't expecting..."_

"_Expecting what?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing._

"_Well..." the American chuckled more, "your accent."_

"_What about my accent, Mr. Jones?" The Brit squeezed his hand tighter against the American's._

"_I just find British accents... amusing, that's all," the taller blond answered with a small smile._

"_I see," the Brit replied, still holding the new employee's hand tighter. "What else do you find __**amusing **__about the British, Mr. Jones? Hm? Maybe how we... enjoy eating crumpets? Or not brushing or teeth? Or how we enjoy drinking tea 24/7, and driving our vehicles on the left side of the lane? Or how most British males come out of the closet announcing that they're __**gay**__? Do you find that rather amusing as well, Mr. Jones?"_

"_Nope," Alfred answered happily. "Just your accent."_

"_Ah," the Brit smiled sarcastically, nodding._

"_That... and you have a..." The American closed one eye and used his free hand to point at something on the Brit's face, "...little bit of lettuce on your clean, white teeth."_

_The Brit's face reddened and pulled his hand away from the American's. He cupped his mouth with embarrassment. He turned his back from Alfred to get the food particle out of his teeth. "Fucking git..." the new employee heard the man hissed. Alfred grinned, already knowing he was going to like it here __**and **__his new coworker. _

* * *

The American had been poking fun of the Brit ever since. He would tease the other coworkers, but he enjoyed bothering Arthur the most. He was sure if Arthur wasn't working there, his job would be rather dull. Arthur was what made the American looked forward to the next day. It was like having a dessert. After a meal, that person knew the best was yet to come. (*) So enjoyable and satisfying. Just like the angry British man. The American wasn't too sure how long they've been standing in silence. It was getting a little too uncomfortable for the American to handle. He didn't care if the Brit yelled at his face. He just wanted some noise. Alfred grinned and turned to the Brit. "Look, Arthur-"

"Just drop it," the Brit cut him off, walking back to the living room. "I'm going home."

"But Arthur, I-"

The Brit angrily turned back at the American. "Not another word, Alfred!" he cried. "I don't want to talk about it any further! That's final!" He went over to the couch, got on his hands and knees, and looked under the beige colored furniture. Once again, Arthur found no trace of what he was looking for. "Fucking hell..." the Brit swore, "where are my fucking keys?"

_-jingle jingle-_

The Brit paused, hearing a jingling noise. His head slowly poked out from the couch. He paled when he saw his coworker standing in the hallway, holding out his car keys. "**You **bloody had them?" Arthur asked, frowning. "All this time?"

"I found them on my night stand when I was changing shirts this morning," the taller blond answered. "I was going to give them to you after breakfast."

The Brit stood and went around the couch, walking over to the tall blond. "Hand them over you-" Arthur spoke reaching out for his car keys. The American held the keys up out of the Brit's reach. Arthur blinked then frowned. He reached out his hand trying to grab them. "Fucking bastard," he hissed, hopping up and down for the keys, but no avail. "Give me my blasted keys, wanker!"

The American's smirk returned. "How bad do you want them?" he asked the short blond.

The Brit blinked. He didn't like that tone in the American's voice... not at all. He didn't like the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes. None of it. "Alfred, I'm going to kick your arse if you don't give them here!" Arthur warned.

"That bad, huh?" Alfred chuckled, lowering the keys some. The Brit reached out, but the American held them back up before he could snatch them.

"Fucking git!" the Brit hissed, face turning red and panting from all the leaping.

"You want them? Then kiss me for it," Alfred said simply.

The Brit glared at him. "What?" he spatted.

"Kiss me, and you can have your keys."

The Brit folded his arms. "I have no time for your childish games, Alfred."

"Would you prefer having sex then?" The American's grin widened.

Arthur's eye twitched. Grumbling, he walked over to the cheesing American and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Fucking happy?" he muttered, holding out his hands for the keys.

The American twisted his lips, looked up at the ceiling in thought, and hummed to himself. "Mmm... I'm not convinced," he answered grinning, still holding up the keys.

"Alfred!" the Brit warned again, grinding his teeth together.

"I want you to give me your best kiss," Alfred ordered calmly. "Not a peck. Not a smooch. But a **real **kiss."

The Brit sighed. There was no way of getting out of this mess. He could always call the cab, but he hated cabs. Just like Alfred, they talked too damn much. The blushing Brit had no other choice, but grant the American his wish. "Fine," he finally accepted. "And this better not be a trick."

"No tricks," the American promised, the grin never leaving his face.

The Brit sighed annoyingly and walked over to the American again. He placed his hands on his broad shoulders, leaned forward, and pressed his lips gently against the American's soft ones. The Brit glared at the American's smirking eyes, his stilled lips were connected to the taller man's.

Alfred pulled away a bit. "Still not convinced," he smirked.

"Just give me a bloody minute!" Arthur snapped. He sighed and tried again. This time, he massaged his lips against the taller blond's. Alfred was very warm and soft. It was just like last night and the night before. He just felt stupid for being the only one doing the kissing. This time, the Brit pulled away. "This is stupid," he frowned. "Aren't you going to kiss back?"

"Do you want your keys back?" the American answered with a question.

"...yes."

"Then keep going."

The Brit wanted to punch the smug look off the git's face. Instead, he rolled his eyes and continued to kiss him. He finally felt the American responding. Alfred made a soft, satisfying moan as he took his free hand and buried his fingers through Arthur's hair. The two blonds pushed their lips back and forth, tilting their heads from one side to the next to find a comfortable angle. Soft, wet smacking noises were heard from both lips. The taller blond followed his coworker's lead, mouths opened and closed until lips were clashed together repeatedly. Even though there were no tongues involved, this was getting good to Arthur... maybe too good. The Brit caught himself moaning out. He blushed and swore in his head, hating that this kiss was feeling nice, hot, and intense. The Brit had to stop it before it went too far. Slowly, Arthur pulled away slightly, panting. The American panted also, forehead resting against his smaller coworker's, his fingers still buried in his hair. "Now?" Arthur breathed.

"It... was okay," Alfred answered with a sweet smile.

"Just okay?" the Brit bellowed, pulling away some more.

Alfred snickered, now ruffing Arthur's hair. "I'm kidding," he chuckled, pulling away completely and holding out the keys low enough for the Brit to reach. "It was really nice. Good work!"

The Brit huffed in response as he snatched the keys away from the man's opened palm. He muttered something the American couldn't understand and turned on his heel, storming back to the living room. He snatched up his shoes and walked to the front door. Once he grasped the door knob, he paused.

The American just stood in the hallway, watching the Brit's back. "You forgot something?" he asked humorously.

The Brit didn't respond. He just stood there with his hand on the door knob. He frowned more and closed his eyes tightly, contemplating and hesitating.

_Bollocks... bollocks...!_

Arthur couldn't stand Alfred; his teasing, his mocking, his loudness, anything that made the Brit go crazy. But what drove the man crazy the most about his coworker was...

_Damn you, git..._

...he was irresistibly addicting.

Arthur dropped his shoes, turned back around, and walked a fast pace toward his coworker in the tossed his car keys carelessly over his shoulder before crushing his body and lips against the American's awaited ones. The taller coworker pinned Arthur roughly against the wall, a few picture frames falling on the floor. Alfred deepened the kiss. Gasping, panting, and hurried lip locking filled the small hallway. The Brit broke away from the kiss, snatching the glasses off the taller blond's face and tossed them to the carpeted floor. He grasped the bottom of the American's white cotton shirt and roughly pulled it over his head. A ripping noise was heard, but neither one of them cared. Alfred held his arms up, letting the Brit removed his shirt. The shirt was still hanging on the American's wrist before he flung it off him and attacked the smaller blond's lips again. Alfred was the next to break the kiss seconds later. In one swift move, he ripped the Brit's shirt open, sending buttons flying, and roughly slipped the ruined shirt passed the man's shoulders. Arthur made a small noise in surprise before his lips were attacked once more. Two pairs of hands were helping each other unfasten pants. One by one, they landed to their ankles, followed by two pairs of underwear, and they stepped out of them, kicking all garments carelessly to the side. The Brit grabbed the taller man's amazingly toned hips grinding it against his, hardening their neglected members even more. The American's lips parted and moved down to his coworker neck, sucking, nibbling, bitting. Arthur panted hard, wrapping his arms around the taller man's shoulders, arching his neck back.

"Here or the bedroom?" He heard his American coworker murmured against his neck, moving his hands down and cupping the Brit's cheeks. Slowly, he began to caress them. The Brit winced slightly from his coworker squeezing him, still sore from the inside.

"...don't... fucking care," the Brit answered out of breath, legs slowly giving out on him.

"Pitcher or catcher?" came another question before a hot tongue trailed along the Brit's neck, Adam's apple, and chin.

"Don't fucking care..." the Brit repeated his answer, shivering and pulling the taller blond's hair.

"Lube or-"

"Just fuck me, wanker!" the Brit cried, pulling the American's hips closer to his.

Alfred didn't argue, but only smirked in response before grabbing his coworker's bare ass and lifting him up off the floor. The Brit gasped, wrapping his legs tightly around the taller blond's waist as he was being carried off to the bedroom.

**00000000**

"Blimey... Ngh! Fuck... no, no, no! Wait, wait...!" winced a sore Arthur.

"I have petroleum jelly in the bathroom," panted a worried Alfred.

"No, just... Ah, blimey! ...t-try again."

Alfred looked down, his tip barely entering his coworker. "If it hurts, let's get the Vaseline," the American requested again.

"For fuck's sake," Arthur grunted as he sat up from the mattress. "Pull it out and sit back for a second."

The American did what he was told and watched as the smaller blond kneeled between his legs and lowered his head. "Arthu-" Alfred tried saying, but held in his breath when his coworker took his length in his mouth, licking it, spiting on it, and damping it. "Jesus..." the American breathed, his head leaning back.

Arthur pulled away, having a string of saliva attached to his lower lip and the American's tip. "There. Now, put it back in," he said before lying on his back, bending his knees to his chest, and spreading his cheeks with his hands. The American recovered from his daze and crawled back over to the impatient coworker. The American took a hold of his wet, pulsing member and guided it to the Brit's throbbing and tender rectum. The Brit jolted slightly from the sharp pain once the tip entered first. Alfred sucked in his breath once again when the tip was inserted the second time, eyes closed with concentration. Arthur didn't want the American to budge any further, but he still wanted it. He was craving it; he, Alfred, and the Brit's sore butt.

"Arthur," the American said soothingly.

"Stop holding back and just move your blooming arse!" the smaller blond exclaimed. With a loud moan and without warning, the American pushed the whole length all the way in. The Brit cried out, back arched, head thrown back, tears forming and rolling down his face horizontally from laying down. He didn't get the chance to brace himself. The burning, the thickness, and the stretching all returned, but four times excruciating than the last two nights. "FUCK! You... damn Amer-AH!" was all the poor Brit could get out before the American just started to roll his hips against his nonstop. "Just... wait a minute... wanker! Let me... FUCK!"

Warmth. Tightness. Alfred couldn't believe he didn't remember this wonderful sensation from the past two nights. It felt so welcoming and so right. The strange tightness in the pit of his stomach was laying there, wanting something to come out desperately. He looked down at his loud groaning coworker with half-closed eyes. He watched how the smaller blond grasped the sheets underneath him, head turning side to side. The Brit's sweat began to slowly form, his blond hair getting wet and damping the pillow underneath him. The Brit's eyes were closed tight, mouth opened slightly and moaned out from each thrust the American was giving him. The sight of Arthur excited the American. Instead of watching the man getting angry with him, he preferred this side of him.

"H... harder..." he heard his partner underneath him breathed. "Rougher... you fool."

Alfred blinked. "Arthur, are you sure?" he asked undoubtably.

Green eyes opened and turned to the concerned blue ones. "It never stopped you before."

"I was drunk then," the American explained. "I didn't know what I was doing."

The Brit wrapped his legs tightly around taller man's waist and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, making the American's penetration deeper in him. "Then do your worse while sober," the Brit dared, breathing hard in his partner's face. The American looked into the Brit's green orbs before leaning forward kissing him hard.

**00000000**

Quick continuous hard thrusts later...

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"Ngh! Alf-A-AHH! To-o... mu-ch! TO-O MU-CH, DAM-M-M-MIT!"

"This was what you wanted right? Huh?"

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

Slick wet bodies were brushing against one another. A shaking hand grasped the sheets and comforter off the head of the mattress.

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"Y-ou're-fuc-king... ki-i-ill-ing me-e-e-e!"

"Good. I'm... getting... there too..."

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

Quick and fast pace skin slapping against skin was echoing all across the room.

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"Fu-uck-i-ing, bl-i-im-e-e-e-ey!"

"Don't stop. Keep stroking yourself."

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"I c-an't-ke-ep u-p w-i-i-ith-y-o-ou, wan-ker-er-er!"

"I'll do it when I'm finished then."

"Bloo-dy fin-ish it-**no-o-o-ow**!"

The Brit regretted making this request. Here he was on one hand and his knees, his other arm pulled back by the American and the American's hand grasping the Brit's shoulder. Here the Brit was, getting pounded nonstop. Alfred didn't slow his pace yet. The Brit had no idea someone can actually move at this fast pace when having sex. This wanker surely experienced with other people before him! Arthur was sure of it now. And each time the Brit would speak he sounded like he was driving a bumpy road.

"F-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-uck...!"

A _**very **_bumpy road.

The American occasionally would hit his coworker's prostate, making the Brit's eyes roll in the back of his head and having saliva run down his chin. This was too much for Arthur to handle. Enough was enough!

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"A-A-Ah-Al-f-fre-e-ed!" the Brit trembled, saliva rolling off his chin and wetting the bed. "S-to-o-op! P-l-e-e-e-e-ease!"

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"Almost..." the American panted, squeezing his partner's wrist tighter and digging his nails into his right shoulder deeper for a better grip.

"F-u-uck-ing... G-I-I-I-IT!"

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"Coming... Arthur...coming...!" Alfred grunted out and released, still pumping.

"Yo-u c-a-a-am-e-e-e! S-to-o-op!"

_-Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-_

"B-LOOD-D-DY!" Arthur cried and released, collapsing.

_**Would any of you find it a little weird when I typed this sex scene, that I got a little... well... hot... and happy.... *gestured her eyes downward* ...down there? *clears throat* Okies! Let's talk about something else... like...**_

_**~See the Stars (*)~**_

_1) He didn't mean to be a bully. That was mainly his way of letting kids know that he liked them.: __**(how many of you got bullied and picked on at school? Well, let me tell ya. I was teased and picked on every damn day from junior high all the way up to the 12**__**th**__** grade, and it was roughly by boys. When I told my sister about it, she told me that was mainly the boys way of letting me know that they liked me. Oh, really, sis...? So you mean to tell me that when someone is putting a foot print on my ass, sprinkle salt in my hair, and getting smacked in the face by a slice of pizza is a person's way of letting me know I'm 'liked'? Psh, bitch plz)**_

_2) It was like having a dessert. After a meal, that person knew the best was yet to come.__**: (Forgive me for being a little religious for a second here... and after I wrote about two guys making love. Pfffff! 'The best is yet to come'... that was my favorite line from a story that was told by my aunt at church. About this woman who had a few days to live. She made a request to her family that when she dies she wanted to hold a fork in her hand in her casket. When her family asked why, she told them after she had her meal, she had a fork ready and would say: 'hold on to your fork, because the best is yet to come.' And she would have her dessert (because who doesn't love cake/pie after a good meal, right?) So basically when she was holding this fork when she died, she knew the best was yet to come when she made it to heaven. It's like a dessert: So good, and soothing, and basically comforting. Cake can be a comfort food. Just like how the big man upstairs is, right?)**_

_**More chapters to come. Be safe!**_

_**-Piggy **_

_**(yes, it's still cryhog)**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Who Rocks, Author?: **_You mean besides me and that guy riding the horse backwards from the Old Spice® commercial? Heheheh _

_Why... these rockin' readers and reviewers, of course! _

_**Okay... okay... but who Rocks even HARDER?:**__ That's easy! It's __**sayurnotimaginary**__ and the mysterious __**Fretful **__AKA "Fret". They actually went through all the trouble (bless their little hearts) to point out that Alfred's nickname (burger lover) was typed more than 20 times in the last chapter. LOL I had no clue once again I was doing a silly little habit like that._

_No, but seriously, I know I keep sounding like a broken record. This really means a lot to me that you guys are taking the time to read this crazy ass and easily readable fanfic. Telling me how much it turns you on, pointing out some silly habits/stupid grammar errors of mine, or telling me to stop making it sound like Arthur is getting butt raped by a Double Whopper with cheese lol(__**EDIT**__-I finally fixed that part now :3). Hell, even __**Hyanna**__ signed up for an account just to tell me how much she enjoyed this fanfic. I'm still shocked by it. I've read __**better **__fics in my day. But if she and you all enjoy it, I'm happy. You guys rock my face and totally made my day. Your reviews make me laugh, giggle... and most times make me just want to track you all down and make sweet, salty, sexy, and high buttery cholesterol love to __**each **__and __**every **__one of y-_

_*Advertising book mark fades in*_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (Mmm... a Royale wiff Cheeesssseeee... *drools*)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 7)~**

**00000000**

Normally on TV or real life after couples had sex, they would either fall asleep, smoke a cigarette, get a bite to eat in the kitchen, or waddle their bare booty back to the computer to get back to playing their first person shooter game.(*) For Alfred and Arthur, however...

"Check."

"Bollocks!"

...they were laying in the bed, bare naked, playing chess.

After the Brit came to from their hard core activity that was sex (though he wasn't entirely sure what the fuck it was they did a few hours ago), he was greeted by a naked and grinning Alfred sitting next to him. The only thing he was wearing, however, was his glasses. With a wink, he offered him a cold beer which the Brit happily accepted. They both drank in silence. Even though, Arthur was thrilled his coworker was shutting up for once, he was bored as hell from all the comforting silence. Sensing that his British coworker was bored out of his mind, the American suggested that they should play some board games. Alfred had quite a selection, but the Brit wasn't fond of any of them. Arthur was looking at his coworker oddly seeing he had the game Candyland. Then he came across the chess board game. The Brit was surprised to discover that the American knew how to play.

"Check."

"No, that's not... Ah... Blimey... Fuck!"

And Alfred was, in fact, kicking Arthur's ass at it.

Frustrated, the Brit tipped over his black king chess piece, accepting defeat. But of course, he didn't take losing by the American so well. "I don't want to play this bloody game anymore!" the Brit cried after his fifth lost.

"Wanna play Uno then?" Alfred suggested.

"No," the Brit huffed.

"Chinese checkers?"

"Forget it!"

Monopoly?"

"No!"

"Modern Warfare 2?"

"That's not even a board game!"

"Candyland?"

"Again, why the bloody _**fuck **_do you have Candyland, you git?" The Brit cried sitting up, nearly making the chess pieces slide out of their spots from his slight movement.

The American shrugged, grinning. "It's fun?"

The Brit only sighed, giving up on arguing with the American. "Not only are you annoying, but you're so fucking weird!" he muttered.

"Well," Alfred said ever so quietly, "what do **you **wanna play?"

The Brit looked up at his coworker who was undressing him with his eyes... but the Brit was already nude. Then again, it looked more like Alfred was fucking him with his eyes. "Me?" The Brit said, pointing at himself, sounding like he was surprised.

"You?" The taller blond teased, copying Arthur's tone.

Arthur watched his naked coworker crawled over to him, carelessly knocking the forgotten chess pieces over. Alfred leaned forward, eyes closed, and pressed his lips gently against the Brit's. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed and kissed back. It was just a simple, long, and soft kiss, and the poor Englishman was already getting that hot and pulsing sensation right between his legs. The American pulled away slightly. "I'm sure playing **you **sounds fun," Alfred murmured.

"Fucking pervert," the Brit managed to murmur back before his coworker captured his lips again.

**00000000**

"Nnhh..."

_-tap-tap-_

"My turn?" The American asked, with shortness of breath.

"Yeah..." the Brit replied with a grunt. "Go... ah!"

"Keep it steady."

"I bloody am! Just go before I fucking skip-Ngh.. your turn!"

"The last time you did that you... nhh... lost a turn," Alfred replied, smirking.

"Make your move, dicktard! I'm fucking going to lo-Nhh... lose... anyway... ah... God!"

The American smirked before thrusting his hips forward forcefully.

The Brit who was laying under him on his stomach, moaned out by surprise, pain, and pleasure. "Fucking... git!"

Alfred reached over and pulled a top card. "I have two," the American said smugly. "I'm almost there."

"Yeah, yeah," the Brit replied, sounding less excited. "Move your fucking piece already."

"Sure thing."

_-tap-tap-_

The American continued grinding his hips after he made his move. The Brit groaned, pushing his hips against his partner in return.

Alfred leaned over nibbling his coworker's ear. "Your move," he breathed before slipping a hot tongue in Arthur's ear.

The distracted Brit moved his head away from the American's hungry tongue. "Stop making me lose my concentration..." the shorter blond growled, shivering. "You're always-Ah, Fuck!"

"What's there to concentrate?" Alfred asked with a sharp moan. "Just pull a card and move your piece. It's that simple."

"How the fuck can I when-Ngh... shoving your-Oh Fuc-" Arthur shot his head back from a recognizable sensation when his partner made another powerful thrust. The American moved his head away in time before the shorter blond head butted his nose. "Bloody hell!" the Brit cried out in pleasure. "R... right there!"

The American stopped moving. "Right where?" Alfred asked teasingly. The American grinned, hearing his partner mutter swear words underneath him.

"Keep moving," he ordered the American.

"Oh, no, no," Alfred joked. "I don't want you to lose your concentration because of me. Please, make your move, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur frowned and turned to his shoulder, trying to glare up at the man on top of him. "Alfred, we are having sex while playing Candyland... Candy **fucking **Land!"

"And?" Alfred teased more, slowly pulling his slick member away from his partner's hole inch by inch. The Brit gasped and reached from behind grabbing his dominating coworker's forearm to keep him from pulling his massive length out. Alfred stopped and grinned, hearing his coworker blurring out something. "What's that?" the American asked with a huge grin.

The Brit shamefully turned his head away to keep his coworker from seeing his face which he was sure was now a full shade of red. "I said... keep fucking me, and I'll make my fucking move... please," the Brit demanded more clearly.

"Alright..." The coworker smirked as he pushed his glasses back in place. His blue eyes closed in bliss as he slowly inserted himself back in the Brit's opening.

Arthur shivered as he reached out his trembling hand and drawing another card. "Bollocks!" the Brit swore.

"Aw," the American chuckled. "The licorice space. You lose a turn."

The Brit growled, tossing the card to the side. "I don't wanna play this fucking game anymore," he panted angrily.

Alfred stopped moving his hips and smirked, "Which one? Candyland or sex?"

"I'm going home!" Arthur cried as he tried pushing the heavier blond off him.

Alfred leaned all his weight on the fighting Brit to keep him from slipping free. "I'm teasing you," the American joked. "Let's finish the game."

"I can't breath, wanker," the struggling Brit fussed. "And I don't want to play this sissy Candyland crap anymore!"

"Not that game," Alfred whispered as he began rolling his hip. "This game."

"Fuck..." Arthur groaned out, forgetting he was mad at the man. "You are such a... bastard..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

The Englishman turned his upper body as far back as he could and captured Alfred's lips."Are you mad?" He pulled back far enough to murmur out and captured the dominated one's lips again.

_I cannot stomach this bloody bastard... so damn annoying... but..._

Alfred broke the kiss and looked down at the Brit. "That looks uncomfortable," he said, pulling himself out. "Lie on your back." The Brit really didn't give a damn, but he did what he was told and locked his legs around Alfred's waist as he felt the American entered him again. Arthur sat his head up, slipping his tongue in the American's hot mouth. Alfred kissed his coworker back, giving him slow, hard thrust.

_...but blimey, he's fucking good. _

**00000000**

"You owe me twenty bucks, wanker," said a frowning and hair drenching Arthur, slowly walking (due to his sore bum) back in Alfred's bedroom. He just got out of the man's shower and gathered his scattered clothes in the hallway afterwards. The Brit's lower half was fully dressed, but his chest was still bare.

"For what?" a fully dressed Alfred asked, looking up at his coworker and lifting an eyebrow. He was gathering all the pieces for the Candyland game and putting them back in the box.

Arthur held up his ruined button down shirt that the American ripped up like a mad animal several hours ago.

Alfred grinned and turned back to board game, closing the box. "You weren't complaining about it earlier," the American teased.

"Well... I-I'm complaining about it now," Arthur argued while blushing. "I paid good money for this shirt, git."

"Well, in that case," the American began putting the board game to the side and walked over to the bed and began pulling the soaked and musty bed sheets off the mattress, "I owe you... twelve bucks then."

"Twelve bucks?" the Brit asked, confusingly. "Why twelve?"

"My cotton T-shirt you ripped over my head was eight bucks."

The Brit huffed glaring hard at the coworker.

"Fuck you, Alfred," he muttered looking down at his shirt once again.

"Anytime," the American said quietly with a smirk.

Arthur grunted a noise in anger from Alfred's little "inside joke" as he looked back up at the taller blond, but he was suddenly blinded by something. It completely covered his whole head, and it also had the American's scent. "Hey," he cried as he pulled the material off his wet head. He looked down seeing it was a grey T-shirt.

"You can wear that for the time being." The American gathered all the bed sheets before walking passed Arthur.

The Brit watched the taller blond leave the room. He looked back down at the shirt again. Arthur still couldn't get over what he and Alfred just did... three times... no.... four times! Was it normal to have sex with someone you're annoyed by? Especially when they both worked for the same company. The Brit never recalled their Austrian boss pointing out it was against the rule of having relationships with your coworkers. Ludwig and Feliciano seemed to already point that out. But when it came to just having sex with a person you can't stand, was it right? As far as the Brit knew, they weren't in a relationship. There was no after sex cuddling. There were no exchanged "I love you's." So if they weren't lovers, what the hell was it? The Brit looked over his shoulder to see if Alfred was gone before placing the shirt to his nose, inhaling it. It smelled just like him. Such an amazing, soothing smell.

_Maybe it's the cologne... maybe that's why I can't get enough of the bastard? Maybe it's just his lower regions and nothing else? Hell, I'm such a bloody whore._

"Is it too big?"

The Brit jumped slightly by surprised from the question heard behind him. He turned, seeing it was Alfred didn't even hear him come in. "No, no," he answered as he tossed his torn shirt on the bed and quickly slipped the T-shirt on. "It's okay." He smoothed the shirt down, seeing that it did look a little loose on him unlike how the American's shirts fit him like a glove.

The American smiled softly at him before going back over to the bed and picking up a pillow. "The color looks nice on you," he complimented, as he pulled the pillow case off the pillow.

The Brit blinked by surprised. "Was that a complement?"

Alfred chuckled, turning back at the coworker. "You sound surprised," the American replied.

"It's not every bloody day you say something nice to me without ticking me the fuck off," the Brit answered turning away shyly. "Is this the after sex talking?"

"Nah," the American chuckled, pulling out the second pillow case. "Even though you probably hate my guts, I'd still like you."

"_You hate me." _

Those words from last night came across the Brit's mind. The Brit sighed, feeling guilty. "Alfred," Arthur began hesitantly.

"Hm?" the American hummed, looking up at the smaller blond.

"Well..." the Brit rolled his eyes before continuing, "when you were drunk off your arse last night, we had a discussion similar to this. You told me that I hated you and... well..." Arthur's cheeks started turning pink again.

Alfred smiled warmly. "You like me?" he asked almost too adorably, "Is that what you told me?"

"I mean," the Brit explained, clearing his throat. "I told you if I really hated someone... I avoid them completely."

"So you like me!" the American said happily.

The Brit sighed rolling his eyes again. "Do I ever ignore you?" he grumbled.

"So we're buddies, right?"

"We're... coworkers, okay?"

"Partners?"

Another sigh came from the Brit. "I suppose."

"BFFs?" Alfred was just teasing the man now.

"Don't push it, wanker," Arthur warned.

The American couldn't help but laugh at the Brit's reply. "Okay... how 'bout BFFFs?" he asked the smaller blond.

"BFFFs?" Arthur said, blinking. "The hell's that?"

"Best Fuck Friends Forever?"Alfred replied with a wink.

The Brit, however, didn't answer. The only reaction the American got from his coworker was a cherry red face and a thick, twitching eyebrow.

"I'm gonna wash these sheets," Alfred said, walking passed the flushed Brit. "I'll make us lunch later if you're staying over. Oh, and I called Kiku earlier while you were passed out. He's stopping by to play MAG with me." Alfred left the room, leaving the blushing Arthur all alone.

Best Fuck Friends Forever. It was like sex partners, right? He and Alfred only had a sexual relationship and nothing else. Arthur blinked a few times, snapping out of it. He frowned, turning to the door the taller blond just walked out at. "BFFF," he muttered. "Damn git." He looked around his coworkers room, noticing the American had a few selections of things from each corner of his room. One side he had a selection of books neatly alphabetized in a small bookshelf, and on the other side he kept his collection of action figures of his favorite super heros; some were still secured in their boxes. _What a nerd_, the Brit thought. DVDs and most were action packed movies, comedies, and Animes... and the Brit wasn't surprised he came across a few hentai ones. "Fucking perv," the Brit murmured as he pulled out a DVD cover of two anime schoolgirls on their knees, clashing their oversized breast together and looking up. Both their faces were covered in "frosting." The Brit made a face.

_If that git __**ever **__ask me to wear a schoolgirl's uniform and have my face bloody covered in his own mess, I swear I will bite it off... _

The Brit shuddered and put the DVD back where he found it. Arthur thought this was more like a gaming room than a plain felt like he was in someone's college dormitory. "Alfred?" he called out to his coworker as he walked back over to the board game section on the other side of the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Arthur heard the American called back from the other side of the apartment.

"How bloody old did you say you were again?"

"I'll be twenty-three in July."

The Brit blinked by surprised. He knew Alfred was a little younger, but the American will be at least four years younger than him. Alfred is still somewhat a kid. Arthur made an annoying grumbling noise in the back of his throat.

_I'm getting knocked up by a bloody baby. Lovely... _

"Why'd you asked?" he heard the American called out.

The Brit picked up the Candyland game and was getting ready to put it back with the other board games. "Ah... no reason," he answered.

Silence.

"How old are you, Arthur?"

"Twenty-four," the Brit lied as he looked down at the girly board game.

"Really?" the American said, sounding shocked. "You look a little older."

"..." The Brit growled and held the box a little tighter nearly bending it. "Wanker," the Brit muttered. He took the box back over to the shelf where the other board games were and placed it on top of the chess box. "Hm?" The Brit hummed when he noticed something scribbled sloppily with a sharpie marker on the side of the chess box. "J... ja..." the Brit tried pronouncing as he squinted his eyes and leaned his head forward to get a better look, "Ji... Jen..." Arthur blinked, lifting an eye brow. He then went to the Candyland box, turned it around until he saw that it also had the name "Jen" scribbled sloppily on the side the same way as the chess did the same with the other game board boxes, and most of them had the same sloppy handwriting that read "Jen"

_Who the bloody hell is Jen? _

The Brit wondered if Jen was the American's younger sister. Maybe an old girlfriend. If girlfriend, then she had some messy handwriting. Even the Italian at work had better handwriting skills. But who was she? If some of these board games didn't belong to Alfred, why did he have them? Maybe his old girlfriend/younger sister came by every once and a while to visit him. The Brit frowned.

_Why the bloody hell should I be concern? What he does is his damn business and not mine. I'm not jealous. I'm not even his fucking boyfriend... I'm just... _

"...his fuck friend," the Brit murmured to himself.

"Hello, Arthur-san."

The Brit jumped by surprised for the second time this afternoon. He turned and saw both his coworkers Kiku and Alfred standing by the door staring at him with concern.

"You okay?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, um," Arthur said, brushing his fingers though his still damp hair. "Yes, I'm... I'm fine. Just fine."

Kiku blinked, a little surprised the Brit didn't snap at the America like he normally would. "It is good to see you two are getting along," the Japanese man said with a small smile.

"What?" Arthur cried.

"Yep!" the American replied happily. "We're BFFs. Right, Arthur?" The American turned to the blushing Brit with a teasing wink.

"Fuck..." before the Brit said the last word which was "you," he instead decided to add, "Bugger off."

The American only grinned in response.

"Are we playing that MAG game or not?" Arthur grumbled, turning his head away from the grinning American. He walked over to the game shelf and went through the American's selection of video games.

* * *

_**I'm sorry this chapter is short. Again, this looked like a good stopping point for now. And sorry this love scene wasn't as kinky as the last one. What possessed me to have them have sex while playing Candyland is beyond me. *puts on Awesum face***_

_**~see duh stars (*)~**_

_1) ...or waddle their bare booty back to the computer to get back to playing their first person shooter game. __**(True story... I used to stay with 5 roommates 3 of them were guys and 2 females. One of my male roommates is dating one of my female roommates... they have sex... ALL the time... and yes... you can hear everything... and yes, my female rommate's moans are a turn on.*bites down lower lip* Anywho... after the sex is over, my male roommate would come downstairs (he's fully dress don't worry), and goes back to playing his World of Warcraft game. I find it strange and hilarious! True story, I swear.)**_

_**lol more chapters to come! Be safe!**_

_**-Cry**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**~sings~ Whoooooaaaa, ohh... this is a bad author**_

_**Whooooooaaaaa, ohh... this is a bad author...**_**: **_Rah, Rah, oh, la, la, why do you read mah, ah..._

_Gah, Gah, oh, la, la, story by bad author... _

_Mah First album, ya'll: CryHOg which is entitled... "Who in da hell let the goddessdamn gate open and let all the rabid fangurls run a muck and pair up anime look-a-like celebs? Cuz if they leave a sista out of it, there's gonna be some MUTHA FUKIN' cuttin' up in dis bioatch!"_

_IN STORES... January 40, 2012_

_Pick up my album, bitches...*moon walks and grabs crotch* WE IN DIS TOGETHA... I LOVE YOUUUUU!_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (...nope. Got nothing.)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 8)~**

**00000000**

It was a typical morning at the office.

Kiku was blinking with confusion.

Alfred was trying to keep from snickering.

Arthur was trying to figure out what the bloody hell this black guy they were talking to was saying to them.

"An' maaan! Dis mutha fucka grabbed me lik' dis..." the black guy grabbed the startled Japanese man by the collar to demonstrate his story, "I mighta been hangin' eight... or twelve foot off da ground, know wha I'm sayin'?"

"I-I see..." Kiku replied, slowly pulling away from the man's hold and readjusted his tie.

"Yeh, man-Nah mean?" the young black man who went by the name of 'Held Up 666' continued, "Kno' wha' I'm sayin'? An' he was yellin'-kno' wha' I'm sayin'-and spittin' on my face an' shit. Old boah tellin' me, 'Get a job! Get a job, fool!' After dat, man-nah mean?... I decided ta follow his advice, kno' wha I'm sayin'... I'm tryin' ta get mah **life **togetha, kno' wha' I'm sayin'?"

"I... suppose?" Kiku answered, nodding still.

"Well," the American grinned. "It was probably the best advice you'd ever received. You must have had a life or death situation."

"Maaaaaaan... **crazy **mutha fuckas out 'ere-nah mean?" Held Up replied, shaking his head. "Fools be crazier den me out 'ere-know wha I'm sayin'?"

"Well, um..." the Brit finally spoke, wanting to make this awkward conversation over, "It's good to have you on board... um, what can we call you? Do you have a... normal name?"

Held Up laughed and grabbed the startled British by the hand and pulled him toward him to give him a brother hug. Arthur winced when the new employee patted his back rather hard. "Call me Carl, dawg!" Carl said, pulling away from the nerve wrecking Brit. "I know, I know. Gotta stick with mah real name-nah mean? Off work, ya'll can straight up call me Held Up Three 6-kno' wha I'm sayin'?" Carl cackled, elbowing Alfred and Kiku, giving them 'daps' from what the former robber previously taught them moments ago.

"Yeah... we know what you're saying," Alfred said, grinning. The American was having a ball with this. The Brit just shook his head at the taller blond.

_Practically __**everything **__is amusing to this git._

Carl cackled again but then it died down when they saw Ingrid, the full chest coworker passing by with a handful of paperwork. All the boys watched her walk their way. Alfred, Arthur, and Kiku blinked, watching the woman's hips sway tauntingly. Carl was checking her out the hardest, watching her full and firm hips as she walked away. The new employee made the Brit and the Asian man flinched when he yelled out a "DAMN" as soon as she was out of sight. "Yooooo...!" Carl chuckled. "She's da finest bitch I've seen in this mug-nah mean?"

Alfred smirked. "Yeah, she is cute," he agreed.

"Please Carl-san," Kiku frowned, "you should never refer to any woman by that harsh term."

"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Mah bad, dawg! Mah bad!" Carl answered placing and hand on the smaller man's shoulder while turning back to where Ingrid just left. "Yo, man..." he then spoke quietly as he turned back to the three. "Did anyone get a hit on **dat **yet?"

"I have," Alfred grinned.

"Wha! Da-g-gh- ALFRED?" Arthur stuttered.

"Twice."

"What?"

Alfred couldn't hold it in. He laughed out and turned to his secret sex partner. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" he told the flustered Brit. Arthur just glared, blushing. Then his frown faded blinking with confusion.

_What the hell am I angry for?_

"I have never seen her with anyone," Kiku replied.

"Word up! Word up!" Carl chuckled rubbing his palms together. "Well, look, Imma go to dah boss's office to finish up da papers-kno' what I'm sayin'? And Alfred... dawg! Show me ol' girls cubicle so..." Carl pointed with his thumb and gestured his head and eyes back at Ingrid's direction knowing he was getting the point across. "Hah... nah mean?"

Alfred smirked, nodding, understanding fully. "Gotcha, hommie," Alfred said, grinning.

Carl laughed, giving the tall blond a dap. "Dat's what's up!" the new employee cried happily. "You cool, Big Al! You a'ight! You a'ight! Yo! Check ya'll hommies later!" With that, the new employee pimp-walked back to Roderich's office.

Arthur just stared, trying to figure out what was **that **just now. "What... the **hell**... was _**that**_?" Arthur finally asked as soon as the man was no longer present.

"That, Arthur," the American began, "is your newest coworker. And probably our newest buddy who will be hanging out with us every Thursday night."

"God, no!" Arthur whined and sighed, placing his hand to his forehead. "It's bad enough I have to deal with your bloody arse. There's no telling how bad that... that _**thing **_is if he ever gets intoxicated."

"He did say he was... 'tryin' to git his life back in order...'" Kiku replied, trying to imitate Carl's voice and added a "kno' wha I am sayin'" at the end.

Alfred laughed so hard he was shedding tears. "Kiku... please," Alfred begged with a chuckle. "Say it again?"

The Japanese man blushed walking away. "... maybe later," he said.

Arthur watched the American chase after the embarrassed Japanese man to his cubicle. He rolled his eyes and walked back inside his own cubicle. _Back to work_, he thought. He really hated calling random people. The Brit sat on his desk and went through the names of the people he called and checked off. His mind then went back to Alfred joking that he was sleeping with Ingrid. He still couldn't figure out why he was so upset with that... even if it was only a joke. But if it wasn't, why would he care? Would it really bother the Brit if the American was sleeping with other coworkers besides him? They were only fucking. That was all. That was it... BFFFs which was what Alfred called each other. He didn't love the wanker... no way.

_There's definitely no doubt in my mind the git slept with other people before me. He's probably still doing it. He's probably fucking Kiku for all I know. Maybe even Ivan... Blimey, that would be creepy. There's really no point in me getting upset about it. We're only in a sexual relationship. But he better not come up with a crazy idea of starting a threesome if he is sleeping around other people. He should fuck me and __**me **__only when I'm visiting, dammit... I wonder if I was any good when I was fucking him that one night? Did he like it? Did I give it to him hard or soft? Gentle or rough? If it ever happened again, I'm sure I'd stick with being the catcher for sure..._

"Oh, daaaaaamn! Yo, gay lovahs! Get a room! F'real!"

Arthur's frown returned when he heard the new coworker's voice, which he was certain his loud voice was heard all across the office and through the walls of each person's cubicle.

"What was he thinking hiring this idiot?" the Brit heard one of his coworkers murmured behind his cubicle wall.

Arthur couldn't agree more. "Such a loud bastard..." the Brit muttered.

_Wait... did he say gay couple? Whom is he referring to? _

Suddenly the Brit heard a loud thud as if someone fell to the floor. Arthur blinked. "The hell is going on?" The Brit rolled his chair back and poked his head out his cubicle, being nosy. He lifted a brow, seeing the elevator doors were opened, revealing a confused Ludwig with his arms around a much more confused Feliciano. They were staring down at the new employee who was on the floor trembling with fear, pointing at them.

"Oh, HELL naw! Y... y' work 'ere?" Carl cried frantically. "Naw! Naw! Naw! Naw! Fuck dis shit! I'm workin' at Freckle Bitches!" Arthur and other coworkers got up from their chairs and watch Carl stumbled, trying to get up. He finally got to his feet and ran to the emergency exit, screaming for his life. On the former robber's way out, Arthur saw something that looked moist in the back of the man's black slacks.

"Bollocks... did he just soiled himself?" he murmured to himself. "What the hell was that all about?" He looked around to see if any of the other coworkers saw what happened, but they were just as bewildered as him. He turned to see Alfred and Kiku close by, looking lost as well and turning to other coworkers.

"Eh...?" was the first thing that came from the Italian inside the elevator. The Brit noticed how the German held Feliciano closer to him, letting him know everything was okay... he hoped.

"Who the hell was that?" Ludwig was the next to speak out.

"Well," Alfred spoked, walking over to what appears to be the couple to the Brit in the elevator, "that WAS our new employee. He just finished his interview with the boss. He was saying something about getting his... uh... Kiku, what did he say?" Alfred grinned, turning to his Japanese coworker.

Kiku sighed, blushing slightly. "It was..." the Japanese man began, "something about, um... 'get'n mah life 'n check-kno' wha I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah, that's it!" the American chuckled, shaking his head. "He said he changed his ways after attempting to rob some tall blond guy the other night. I guess he got freaked out 'cause he thought you were the guy." Arthur heard other coworkers laughed behind him. The Brit was somewhat relieved that Carl wasn't going to work for them after all, but he couldn't help but noticed that Ludwig looked somewhat shocked and guilty.

"Ludwig?" the Brit heard the Italian spoke through the laughter of the employees, "what is that smell?"

**00000000**

Arthur was rubbing his temple while holding his phone by his shoulder. Only five more minutes before his lunch break, he kept telling himself.

"_And when I got an email saying that my account was used, I was like... 'Fuck'! And I knew I had to call ya'll, man."_

"Yes..."

But hearing his customer with his strong country accent going on and on about his personal life didn't make time go by any faster for him.

"_Again, man, I really appreciate all the hard work ya'll doing over there. Out of all the cards I've used in my life... shit, Freedom Unit is the best, man. Really!"_

"Thank you-"

"_It's been a big help for me, kept me from getting into debt. I even had the chance to buy nice things for my woman. I got her this bondage set for our second honey moon... hoooo-wheee! Honey's got the ass on her, I'll tell ya what!"_

"Good... for her-"

"_I'm tellin' ya, man. I've never seen a girl so flexible like her. There was one night she pulled her upper body through her leg, and she was Butt. Ass. Naked, waiting for me to stick it-"_

"Mr. Crawford," the Brit cut the caller off while crumbling up a nearby piece of paper to get the images out of his head. "I'm glad I was able to help you... if there's nothing else, you and your wife enjoy the rest of your day."

"_Alright then, Mr. Kirkland," _the caller named Mr. Crawford answered with a chuckle. _"You keep doing what you do, now. You take care!"_

"Cheers..."

_-click-_

"Blimey... bollocks...!" The Brit rubbed his eyes trying to get the naughty images of how Bunnie, Mr. Crawford's second wife would pole dance for him while blowing him off. Was that even possible? Arthur started to squirm in his chair, getting that tingly feeling between his legs again. "Fuck..." he murmured. Screw lunch breaks! He needed a quickie from Alfred, and now. He turned to his phone deciding if he should call him or not. He frowned, turning away from the phone, resting his head against his hand and drumming his fingers on the desk with his other hand. He didn't need it. He didn't need that wanker Alfred.

"Ah! Monsieur Arthur!"

...And he most definitely didn't need _**this **_annoying wanker behind him interrupting his kinky thoughts.

"What is it, Francis?" the Brit murmured, but the Frenchman's name seemed to escaped Arthur's lips rather harsh than he planned. He didn't even bother turning around to face the Frenchman.

"Well, I would like to invite you to come to the Casbah restaurant with me, Antonio, and Brewald-"

"Already eaten," the Brit cut him off, gathering documents that weren't really that important.

"Ah, oui," the Frenchman chuckled. "You seem to never hang out with us during lunch break, Arthur."

"Really, now?" the Brit replied sarcastically while gathering more unimportant documents. "Do you suppose maybe it had something to do with you?"

"Ah, me?" Francis placed a hand to his heart, sounding shocked. "Whatever could you possibly mean, Monsieur Arthur?"

"Oh, I dunno..." the Brit replied, shrugging. "Like how that day you kissed me like I was your long lost lover."

"Silly, Arthur," the Frenchman chuckled. "That is how I greet my friends. I kiss both cheeks, yes, no?"

"**No**... You kissed me square in the bloody mouth, you **simpleton**!" The Brit cringed when he heard the man giggled behind him.

"Simple mistake, yes? Well if you ever want to come join us again, you know where my cubicle is."

"Yes, in the bottom of a lake with you in it where it should be..." the Brit muttered. Arthur cringed once more hearing the Frenchman blow kisses at him from behind before disappearing. _Stupid Francis_, he thought. The Brit would never forget that day when he went on a lunch break with the Frenchdick. He was suppose to meet up with him and other coworkers at a restaurant. Once the Brit showed up, the Frenchman welcomed him with open arms. He gave the annoyed Brit a warm hug, and suddenly without warning, kissed the startled man on the lips, tongue and all. Arthur stood there shocked. The others just stared speechless as well. The Brit muttered something and walked out. Since then, he was avoiding the strange man. That wasn't the kind of greeting you would expect when you eat out with your coworker. _Damn that gay romantic fuck_, the Brit thought. Dammit, he had no time to be reminiscing about stupid moments. This Brit needed a good fuck today. He turned back over to his phone and picked it up.

_-knock knock-_

"Hi, Arthur," came a low feminine voice.

"...Ingrid," Arthur replied, his voice cracked. The Brit put the phone back down before he turned his chair around, facing the full breast woman with a warm smile. "What can I do to you... f-for you...!" The maroon colored hair woman broke into a smile, letting herself in. The smile was lovely to the Brit, but the only thing that popped out (literally) on the woman was breasts, breasts, and of course... tits.

_You beautiful creature, you... you're not making it any better for me, are you...? _

"Well, I have a really bad migraine," she said as she sat on the Brit's desk. "Mr. Roderich said it was okay for me to go home early. And I was hoping maybe you can call the rest of these people for me." She held out three sheets of paper with random names and numbers on them. "It's only three pages. Please, Arthur?"

The Brit stared at the woman's puckered and glossy pink lips, mesmerized at how she said the word "please." "I will do you..." the Brit answered, nodding as he took the papers from her, then blushed realizing what he said out loud. "HELP YOU! I WILL HELP YOU!" He yelled, correcting himself.

Ingrid couldn't help but giggle. She reached over ruffling his hair. "You're so sweet, Arthur," she smiled before biting her lower lip teasingly. "We should hang out together sometimes."

"That sounds... brilliant," the dazed Englishman agreed.

_Breasts... just breasts._

"Great," the woman hopped off the desk, her breasts jiggled slightly. "You have my number." With a wink, she switched off, leaving the cubicle and a flushed Arthur behind. Arthur watched her walk away, clenching the papers too tightly.

"Bye..." he said softly. As soon as she was gone, the Brit rushed over to the phone, picked it up and dialed Alfred's cubicle number. After the first ring, it picked up.

"_This is Alfred,"_ the American said cheerfully.

"A..." the Brit managed to get out, his voice cracking.

"_Hello?"_

"Um..." Arthur swallowed hard, rubbing his free and sweaty palm on his pants leg back and forth. He heard a soft chuckle.

"_Arthur? Is this you?"_

"Um... yes," the Brit answered quietly.

"_Well, what a surprise," _the taller blond cried happily. _"I honestly didn't think I would get a call from you."_

Arthur frowned, eyes narrowing. "The hell is that suppose to mean?"

"_Well... it's 'cause you never call me...?"_

The Brit blinked, feeling dumbfounded. "Oh..."

"_You're going on your lunch break, right?" _the American asked. _"Wanna hang out with me and Kiku and go to Four Chicks and a Burger?" _(*)

"Oh, well... actually," Arthur cleared his throat, pulling his collar slightly. "I was going to the deli place across the street and um... W-well, actually... before you two go... I um... it's kind of funny, really." The Brit chuckled nervously.

"_..."_

"I was just getting weird calls today from customers telling me about their personal life with their spouses, and Ms. Ingrid coming here to visit me looking as... perky as usual and, well-"

"_Are you alone?" _The tall blond asked on the other end of the phone, sounding husky.

The Brit opened his mouth slightly, a cracking noise escaping his throat. "Y...yes?" he answered, sounding unsure.

A soft chuckle was heard on the other end. _"Are you sure?"_

Arthur turned his chair around, looking at his only exit of his cubicle. He watched coworkers walking by chattering, some goofing off and throwing paper balls at each other, and a few actually doing their work. The Brit turned his chair back up front. "Yes," he finally answered. "I'm sure." Then he blinked. "But why did you-"

"_You want it?" _came the question from his coworker.

Arthur held in a shaken breath, knowing full well what the American meant. "W-w-what do you mean?" he asked, acting like he wasn't sure of the question.

"_I think you do know," _Alfred replied, his voice low and the Brit could actually hear the American smiling on the other end.

Arthur was turned on. God, he couldn't stand the American for it. But he wanted it, and he would do anything to get it. "Yes..." he finally answered, exhaling, relieved to finally get it out of his chest.

"_Alright. If I can see you, I 'd love to see how bad you want it." _There was a long pause. The Brit could hear Alfred pulling the phone away and was talking to someone in the background. He then heard a chuckle and the American saying "see you later" before he heard him placing the phone back to his ear. _"So how 'bout I hear it instead?"_

Arthur blushed, flustering. "W-wait... what?" he cried slightly.

"_Let me hear... how bad you want your lunch break..."_

"Fucking git..." the Brit hissed quietly, looking back over his chair again. He turned back to the phone. "Do you **honestly **think I would-"

"_Maybe. Maybe not. But trust me. If you do... I'll __**know **__how you sound." _

Arthur gritted his teeth angrily and clenched the phone tightly. Finally he relaxed, giving in. "Fine... fine," he whispered angrily. He scooted his chair closer to his desk before slipping his free hand underneath it. He unfastened his belt, his copper button from his pants, and finally the zipper. He would occasionally look over his shoulder to see if any unexpected visitors were coming. The Brit sucked in a breath as he reached underneath his undergarments and pulled out his swollen member.

"_That sound, I know is real," _the American said with a chuckle.

"Shut up," the Brit breathed as he slowly began to pump himself.

"_So," _the American spoke up, sounding like his giddy self again, _"what were you and your caller talking about?"_

Arthur sucked in a shaky breath and let out soft groan. "S-sex..." the Brit breathed quietly.

"_His ex?"_

"Sex, you wanker, nhh..." the Brit said more clearly, increasing the pace of his moving hand.

"_Go slower," _Alfred said huskily.

Arthur frowned. "B-but..."

"_We've got plenty of time..." _the American said gently, assuring his coworker. _"It's okay... rub your thumb around the tip a few times."_

Arthur grunted in response, bringing his hand over to the tip of his length. He flinched slightly as his thumb brushed across the helmet of his penis. This was mad. Arthur was at work, jerking off while talking on the phone with Alfred. The Brit couldn't believe what he was doing.

"_How 'bout coming for me?" _the American asked in a low tone again.

"Nhh..." the Brit whimpered bitting down his lower lip. "Alfred... not here..."

"_What about you and Ingrid?" _Alfred continued, ignoring the Brit's pleas. _"I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra today. Someone told me she wasn't wearing any panties today either... maybe we should have her join us sometimes." _Alfred chuckle gently. _"She flirts with you a lot. I bet she would like that."_

"No fucking... nh... way," Arthur grunted.

"_Stroke the base... slowly."_

Arthur obliged. His breathing began to increase, and his legs were trembling. Arthur closed his eyes, picturing the American sitting right in front of him, watching him. If he was there, the Brit wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle him a bit before pinning him to the floor, rip both their clothes, and ride him.

"_What are you thinking about?"_ Alfred's question broke the Brit out of his daydream.

"Nhhh... what the fuck do you ...ah... think?" came the rude response.

"_Hm... I wanna say... tea and crumpets." _

"Arsehole..."

Alfred laughed. There was a pause. _"What are you thinking about? Really. And be honest... and massage your balls while you're telling me."_

Arthur huffed, not believing the git's crazy commands. "Well, if you... ahh..." Arthur moved down to his sacks before continuing, "...must know... nnh.. I was thinking about having sex with you."

"_In the cubicle?" _the American asked.

"Ah..." the Brit gasped, feeling something wet running down his knuckles.

"_How do you feel?"_ the American asked softly.

"Horny and stupid..." answered the Brit with a grunt. "I'm... pre-coming."

"_You're not stupid," _Alfred chuckled. _"I told you I think you're cute. And your moans sound cute. Do you feel stupid because it's not my hand stroking you right now? Or that you're doing something this daringly at your own job?"_

"Ah..."

"_Do you prefer fucking my mouth, or the other way around?_ _There's always 69."_

The Brit moaned out a little louder than he planned. He turned his head again, seeing that the coast was clear. He turned back front and bit his lower lip to keep quiet. "Alfred... ah..." the Brit took quick breaths.

"_I've got an idea..." _the American continued. _"How 'bout smearing some of that pre-come on your finger and push it inside that nice hole of yours?"_

Arthur grunted out by surprised by the American's request and pleasure from his own strokes. "I... c-can't..." Arthur breath and choking out a staggered breath. "Please... let's go... somewhere... nh... please..."

"_Are you saying you don't want to come yet until I get to you first?"_

Arthur growled lowly. "C... ah-correct..."

"_So you wanna share your lunch with me?" _came a chuckle.

"Alfred..." the Brit hissed out. Arthur heard the man chuckle again.

"_Okay," _said the soft husky voice again. "_Fix your pants and meet me in the restroom then."_

_-click-_

Arthur's face paled, hearing nothing but the dial tone on the other end. "Restroom...?" he said nervously and panting.

**00000000**

So far, not one employee who worked at Freedom Unit was disabled. For the pass fifteen minutes, the bathroom stall on the far end that was made for disabled people was still occupied.

"Ngh..."

"Easy. They might can still hear us outside."

Even though the janitors did a fantastic job on cleaning all the restrooms on every floor, the Brit still felt dirty... and not in a sexual way. Fucking in a restroom wasn't the Englishman's idea of a romantic time.

"Hold on to the rail."

"Are you mad?"

It was just... _**dirty**_.

"I can't do this," the Brit grunted, trying to push his partner off him from behind.

Alfred stopped moving and looked at his coworker hard. "So... you can suck me off after I put myself in you, and you're telling me you can't have sex in a restroom?" he asked, lifting a brow.

The Brit blinked, seeing his point.

Alfred grinned. "Look, just pretend we're back in my bedroom, or your bedroom. Either one's fine."

Arthur rolled his eyes turning back, facing the wall. "Whatever," he murmured before finally grabbing the rail the American begged him to do constantly. "But hurry, we only got fifteen m-AH!" The Brit covered his mouth with one hand as he felt the American thrust into him hard.

"Don't worry," he panted. "We'll get to eat." Alfred leaned against the Brit's back sliding his hands along his skin, slowly moving them upward.

"Don't...you... dare.. Ahh..." the Brit warned.

The American grinned before snaking his hot tongue in his partner's ear. "Don't what?" he whispered as he moved his sneaky fingers up to the Brit's nipples, pinching them with his index fingers and thumbs.

"Nhh.." The poor, smaller blond bit down his knuckle in time before he could cry out. This git was going to pay. "Bastard..." he grunted.

The American then gently brushed his fingers across them in an apologetic way. "Better?"

"I feel like a blasted woman when you do either one," Arthur grunted.

"Even when you're being fucked?" Alfred asked as he pulled the Brit's unbutton shirt down passed his shoulders, brushing a hot tongue across one.

The Brit arched his neck shivering. "Damn you, wanker..." he breathed.

"Don't be mad," Alfred murmured wrapping a hand around Arthur's neglected member and stroked him at an increasingly face pace.

"Gah... god... dammit..." Arthur covered his mouth as he cried it out.

"Will this make it up to you?"

"Y... yeah... yes... fuck yeah..." the Brit grunted behind his covered palm. He leaned back against his partner.

The American placed open mouth kisses across his shoulders then trailed up his neck. "Come on..." Alfred breathed as he stroked him faster. "Almost there?"

"Wait... w-wait..." the Brit whimpered pulling his mouth away and placing on the American's stroking hand, "come with me, wanker... s-stop going so fucking fast all the... t.. ah.. fuck..." But after a few more pumps, the Brit already made his release. The taller blond quickly covered his trembling partner's mouth to die down his cries. He held the smaller man up to keep him from falling. Arthur was trembling wildy, coming over and over from each pump the American was giving him. The Brit smacked Alfred's hand, trying to make him stop pumping him.

The American shushed him kissing the top of his head. "It's alright," he said soothingly to the spent Englishman. Arthur cries finally faded, making shaky, panting noises through his nose.

Arthur pulled the American's hand away from his mouth and lean back against the wall, holding the rail, and pushed his hips against his dominated partner. "Hurry up and finish," the told him, panting. "I'm fucking hungry."

The American nodded and began thrusting inside the Brit's opening. "The janitor isn't going to be too happy to see the mess on that wall," the American panted with a smirk.

The flushed Brit turned his eyes to the white liquid splattered on the grey tiled wall. The Brit frowned, glaring at his coworker. "Lick it off when you're done," he ordered the taller blond.

The American smirked and winked. "You wish." he joked.

The Brit turned back to the wall to keep the American from seeing the small smirk appearing on his lips.

The men's restroom door up front was suddenly opened, making this the couple's second visitor for the day to interrupt their "lunch break." Both blonds immediately froze in place. Foot steps were heard and one of the stalls was opening and closing followed by a clicking of the lock. Seconds later, liquid was heard pouring into the toilet bowl.

Two hot blonds were having sex while listening to a guy on the other side of the bathroom taking a leak. Things couldn't get more romantic...

Arthur couldn't help but to make a disgusted face. Alfred smirked and thrust his hips unexpectedly. A surprised and hushed moaned escaped the Brit's lips.

Silence.

The Brit bit his lower lip and winced, moving his eyes from side to side, keeping still. Alfred grinned while he moved his eyes upwards toward the ceiling, waiting for a sudden movement.

"Are you okay?" asked the concern voice... whose accent sounded Austrian. Alfred grinned wider. Arthur's face turned whiter.

_Bollocks... Roderich!_

"Hello?"

The Brit quietly elbowed the American behind him before finally answering. "I'm fine, Roderich," the Brit murmured. "I guess what I ate earlier didn't..." Alfred pushed his hips forward against his partner once more. "Ah.. agree... w-with me..." Arthur turned his head giving the American a deathly glare. Alfred covered his mouth, trying to keep from laughing.

"Oh, my!" they heard their boss say worriedly. Then they heard the toilet flushed and the door unlocking and opening with a squeak noise. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Arthur answered quickly, praying to God the Austrian wasn't tempted enough to look underneath the stalls and be shocked to find another pair of legs. "No harm done. As soon as I... shit it out... I'll be..." Alfred thrust his hips. "Ghh... f-fine..." The Brit turned back at the grinning American, mouthing to him "stop it." Alfred shrugged. Seconds later they heard the water running.

"Well, I already sent Ingrid home because she had a migraine, and another person went home because they caught the swine flu," Roderich called out as the water was running loudly. "But if you still feel under the weather, Mr. Kirkland, please do not hesitate to ask a coworker to send you home safe."

"I'm fine, really," the Brit replied. "Thank you-" Alfred wrapped his hand around the smaller blond's length and started stroking him. "Ahh... s-sir..." The water faucet was turned off, paper towels were ripped, followed by rustle noises, foot steps, and finally the door opened and closed. "Wanker," the Brit hissed, pounding his fist on his coworker's chest.

Alfred chuckled before pushing up his glasses. "Sorry," he smiled. "But we gotta finish before lunch break is over."

"We could have been fired if it wasn't for you! We are never having sex at work ever again! And one more thing- nhhh..." the Brit was quieted by the taller blond thrusting himself against him.

"Really, Arthur," the American breathed in his ear as he increased his pace, "we gotta finish this or we'll starve..."

The Brit could only moan in reply, grasping the rail. "F-fine.." he grunted. "But next time... no restrooms." That was the last thing said from the smaller blond. The only thing heard was he and his dominating coworker's heavy breathing bouncing back all across the restroom walls.

Later, the two blonds managed to have a two minute lunch break.

Several minutes later, the Brit was found rushed to the restroom vomiting in the toilet from eating too fast.

Yes... a typical day.

* * *

_**kolkolkol my sex scenes are so bizarre and mentally challenged. I lack the skills to explain what the character feels when they're getting a penis rammed inside their arse! Pfff... I need to read more books... Iz so special. TBC 'til dah next chapter.**_

_**~see dah stahs (*)~**_

_1) __"Wanna hang out with me and Kiku and go to Four Chicks and a Burger?" _(*) _**(when I was staying in savannah, GA for a while, there was this burger joint that made the meatiest, juiciest, most fattening burger that if even a skinny kid eats one, he'll get diabetes as soon as he finishes it. But it wasn't called 'Four Chicks and a Burger'... it was actually called 'Four Guys and a Burger'. I decided to add chicks... just the thought of seeing hot sexy chick chefs wearing tank tops looking like a Hooters babe with the perfect body crossed my mind for some reason... pfff, and they would work at a fattening burger joint. XD If you take a tour in Savannah go to two places: Four Guys and a Burger and Leopold's IceCream... best home made ice cream ever...)**_

_**Stay updated for more chapters soon and hopefully better Amengland fish sex! Again thank you guys for taking the time to read this. If you see any errors or mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me. You won't hurt my feelings. I'd feel better knowing if I had Arthur getting raped by burgers or something! Haha (you know what I'm talking 'bout, Fretful! *winks*)**__**stay tuned and be safe!**_

_**-Piggy**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Edits from the author (9.10.2010): **__So after __**finally **__catching up with the anime Axis Powers Hetalia, I finally saw the adorable episodes of Japan and Greece hanging out together at Greece's homeland. And um... heh... after studying Greece's personality... I had no clue he was not only soft spoken but... well... slow... as in slow paced. And the Heracles in **this** story is **WAY** out of character. You see... I uploaded this chapter (as well as the other chapters that have Heracles on here), I believe, **FAR** before the episodes of Greece and Japan was released. SO... I kinda tweeked him a bit to make him... well... GREECE. So for those of you who already read this story, and if you're reading it again for some unknown reason, meet the __**real**__ Heracles... the way he was suppose to be in this fanfic! That is all..._

* * *

_**Shout outs from the author: **__This shout out is for my partner in crime: __**Verlerious **__who introduced me to the anime Hetalia. Thanks to her, these Hetalia fanfictions would probably never exist. _

_I would also like to give a shout out once again to all the readers and reviewers who took the time to make it to all the way to this chapter. You guys are what kept me writing these crazy stories._

_...I would also like to give a shout out to __**Biscipid**__... this person rocks because I cannot pronounce this pen name for the life of me._

_Go on... try and fucking pronounce it. Biscuspid._

_BISCUSPID! _

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (we're having babies one day)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 9)~**

**00000000**

It wasn't often customers saw a very hot lady walk into the laid back bar known as The Backyard Bar. It also wasn't often that a very hot lady had practically every man _and _woman eyes on her. This caramel skin color woman was highly attractive; nice body, with a red dress that fitted her body perfectly, long, brown hair (tracks obviously, but damn, she was still hot), dark eyes, pouted, glossy lips, a sassy attitude, and she was tonight's eye candy since she and her girls arrived. It was their first time there, and they decided to stop by the place by random instead of going to their usual spot which was a dance club called Tropical Fantasy. The attractive woman had weight lifted off her shoulders after dumping her good for nothing boyfriend, and she just wanted to have a good time with her girlfriends. She was dying for a Long Island Ice Tea, so she and her girls headed over to the bar to order one. After rejecting the tenth guy who approached her tonight along the way on her quest to fetch her quenching alcoholic beverage... she saw _**him**_...

After breaking her code of rejecting guys and becoming single for the rest of her beautiful life, she was on the dance floor with some tipsy blond guy wearing glasses and teaching him a strange yet very mesmerizing dance that doesn't seem to fit well with the alternative rock music in the background, but hey, at least they were dancing on beat. The duo was the highlight of the bar that Thursday night.

"You caught on, Alfred!" laughed the eye candy, having everyone turning heads at her and the gentleman in the middle of the floor.

"I'm a fast learner!" the tipsy man named Alfred replied, dancing by the woman's side.

The dark girl smirked, eyes narrowed, and dancing closer to the blond. "Oh, really?" she giggled. She moved much closer until their bodies were joined. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Then with a lower voice came, "What else are you fast at?"

Meanwhile, the blond's three coworkers, Arthur, Kiku, and Heracles (whom Kiku invited) were watching from afar, seeing how the bar's favorite regular customer was stealing the show once again, but this time with his new dance partner.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Arthur asked, oddly watching the American on the dance floor with the woman. "It looks like he has a damn squirrel in his pants."

"It looks like... people are enjoying the show," Another employee named Heracles answered. "You were right, Kiku... he's a good dancer."

Heracles was a tall and handsome brunette born and raised in Greece. He was smart, but slow at pace. Not only did he talk slow, but he worked slow as well. Other coworkers couldn't deal with him, and clients couldn't bare with him. Kiku, however, was _always _patient with him and seem to enjoy his company. Often times the Greek ended up falling asleep during work. When Kiku discovered this, he would either visit his cubicle or call him to make sure he was awake. Kiku and Heracles had been doing this routine for a while, and so far they managed to dodge Roderich from knowing the man's silly habit. He and Kiku became good friends right away after discovering each others love for cats. Heracles had five at his apartment, and he adopted a kitten just the other day. He told Kiku he had ten more back in Greece being cared for by his mother.

"These dances are nothing like the ones back home," Kiku said, blinking before taking his free shot glass. It was the peppermint shot, and a strong one at that. Pepperminty, but strong. (*) Kiku gagged a bit at the strong taste.

"Don't you guys do like... hip hop and free styles in Japan?" Heracles asked, watching Kiku take the shot.

Kiku coughed a bit and turned to the Greek man. "Oh, yes. I just never saw this kind of dance here in America."

"Can... _you _dance?" the Greek asked before lifting a brow and taking a sip of his beer, staring at the bashful Asian.

The Japanese man blushed, shyly turning back to the bar. "N...no," he answered as the bartender gave Kiku another peppermint shot.

The Brit turned away from the two and turned back to his coworker on the dance floor. The dancing duo was a lot closer then last time he watched them. Alfred had a bottle of beer in one hand and his other hand around the girl's waist. The carefree chick had her back turned to him constantly grinding her hips against Alfred's crotch. Arthur grunted turning his head away; from disgust or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he was...

"You okay?"

The Brit turned his stool around to the question being asked by the Grecian.

Heracles slowly gestured his eyes at the duo on the dance floor. "Do you want to dance... with her?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Heracles, you couldn't pay me a million to go out there and make an idiot of myself."

The brunette hummed and turned back to Alfred and the girl. "He looks like... he's having fun," he murmured.

Arthur grunted with a soft blush. "I'm sure the git is." The Brit took another chug at his beer.

"I wonder... if they're going to go home together?"

Arthur nearly choked on his beer. He turned to the brunette with a disgusted look on his face. "They just bloody met! Are you mad?"

"You don't have to know someone... to sleep with them," Heracles explained.

The Brit frowned slightly, turning back to Alfred and the girl. "How... can you be sure?" he asked hesitantly.

The Greek shrugged. "I'm not, but it looks like... she _wants _it to happen..." The two coworkers turned back to Alfred and the girl.

The red one reached her arms around Alfred from behind grabbing his hips. Arthur's eyebrow twitched and clenched his bottle. "Would Alfred happen to be..." Arthur began asking, "a womanizer?"

"I have seen Alfred-san dancing with women all the time," Kiku answered, joining in on the conversation. "But he is always drunk, so I never saw him go home with anyone or anyone leaving with him."

The woman in red took Alfred's free hand, placing it on her thigh.

"Has Alfred ever brought up a woman's name?" The Brit asked another question. "A person named Jen or someone of the sort?" Kiku blinked and Heracles's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Not... that I know of," the Greek answered before turning to the bartender asking for two shots. This time it was tequila.

"Jen?" The Asian replied as another shot glass was placed in his hand. "He has never mention anyone by that name. Why do you ask, Arthur-san?" The Asian man placed the small glass to his lips and quickly shot his head back swallowing the burning liquid. Heracles lightly patted the Asian man's back who began coughing and gagging.

"Uh... no reason." Arthur looked up at his dancing coworker and the babe once again.

The lady in red took Alfred's free hand, placing it on her chest. Arthur's eyes widen slightly.

"Aw! Now why aren't ya'll dancing?"

The Brit looked up seeing three loud and tipsy girls joining the businessmen at the bar. They were the single chick's girlfriends, wearing multi-color fitted dresses with nice hair styles from each of them. Just like the lady in red, the three were also highly attractive. They looked close enough to be girls advertising some soda commercial.

"We're actually... entertained by our friend Alfred," the Greek replied before taking his shot. He shook his head slightly from the burning liquid sliding down his throat and coughing. The girls giggled patting the Greek's back.

"Gurl, Chamise has been all over him all night," one girl wearing a pink dress grinned, watching her girlfriend and Alfred on the dance floor.

"I know, right?" giggled another girl wearing a blue dress. "So much for avoiding men tonight."

"You guys enjoying the drinks?" Asked the third girl wearing a lavender fitted dress before ordering herself another drink.

Kiku blushed, bowing to the women. "We are. It was very kind of your friend to pay for our drinks." The Asian said formally.

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie," the lavender one said then giggled at Kiku. "Look at you! Being so proper and bowing." Kiku blushed deeper as the other girls giggled at him.

"You ladies... are very nice," Heracles said before the ladies giggled in reply.

"What about you, over there?" the blue one asked the quiet Brit. "You dance?"

"Hm?" the Brit turned back to the girls. "Oh... no. I'm not the dancing type."

"'I'm not the dancing type!'" the three girls imitated Arthur's accent before they were in a fit of giggles yet again.

Arthur grumbled turning his stool away from them. He should have known it was coming. Every time the Brit started talking, the girls would laugh at his accent. They were like African American versions of Alfred, but only louder and giggly. "I'm not saying anything the rest of the night," the Brit mumbled to himself. All the girls went over to the Brit, making him turn his barstool around. Two of them stood on either side of Arthur and the other one stood in front of him.

"Arthur, don't be mad at us," laughed the lavender girl standing on Arthur's left side.

The second girl in blue wrapped her arms around his neck. "We're just teasing you," she explained.

"We like teasing the fine fellas. Don't take it the wrong way, baby," the pink one standing in front of the Brit replied. "We're sorry. Will you forgive us?" Each girl gave the Englishman a playful pout.

"Fine, fine," Arthur said throwing up his arms. "All is forgiven." Another giggle came from the cute chicks before leaving lipstick marks on each cheek and one on his forehead. The Brit blushed, trying to shoo the girls off him. He looked up at them watching them giggling still. Arthur frowned. "Do I have makeup on me?"

"Yep," Heracles replied.

"Ah, blimey..."

"'Blimey!'" the girls made another imitation of Arthur's accent, then the laughter came. Arthur just rolled his eyes and went back to his drink. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. He began wiping all the lipstick stains off his face. He looked back up at the dance floor, watching Alfred once again.

Both of the taller blond's hands were on the chick's chest. Arthur took in a deep breath, turning his head away.

_I cannot believe this wanker is... and with a complete stranger for that matter!_

"Gurl, I'm tried of standing," the lavender girl whined. "I wanna dance!" She reached over, grabbing Heracles's hand and pulled him off the chair. "C'mon! I ain't going out there by myself!"

Heracles blinked and put down his drink. "Uh... okay," he murmured as he was being dragged away. Kiku watched the Greek disappear into the crowd. He had a concern look on his face as if the brunette wasn't coming back.

"Are you sure you two don't wanna dance?" asked the blue one while stealing Heracles's seat.

"Absolutely not," Arthur answered before chugging down the rest of his beer and ordering another one.

"This really is not my type of music. I am sorry," the Asian man explained. The two girls shrugged and leaned against the bar looking bored like the two men.

Arthur just looked on at his coworker. A slower song just came on and the two were facing each other. The Brit wondered if Alfred was really thinking about taking the girl home. Not that he cared, anyway. But still, they hardly knew each other. She just dumped her old boyfriend. How could someone possibly get over their lover and find someone else that quick? The Brit glared at the taller blond, watching him whisper something in the girl's ear. The girl giggled and whispered something back. Arthur sniffed before taking a long chug of his bottle while eyeing them. _Stupid git_, he thought. The Brit would probably have no trouble at slow dancing. It was just two people moving side to side. It was that simple. Alfred and Chamise, on the other hand were grinding into each other like no tomorrow. Amateurs.

"I could do that..." Arthur mumbled.

The blue dress girl blinked and turned to Arthur. "What you say?" she asked.

"Oh... nothing, nothing." The shorter blond chugged down the rest of his beer. He turned to the bartender, ordering another bottle.

"Damn, Englishman! Don't you think you got enough?" She asked him, looking concern. The nearly drunk Brit made a grunting noise, fanning his hand at her. He opened his bottle and turned back to Alfred again. The taller blond was laughing now. The smaller blond wondered what in gods name they were talking about. It made him sick how that Chamise person was making him smile. The Brit was just as funny. Although, he didn't have to try since Alfred would do it for him by teasing him constantly. When it came down to it, Arthur had it naturally for the git.

_Mr. Big Shot thinks he can score with anyone. Bah! I can be the life of the party too. I can have both these wenches punting in my blasted hand. That'll show the git!_

Arthur took another swig of his beer before turning to the ladies who were staring at him with amusement. The Brit's vision was slightly blurry. He squinted his eyes to focus and pointed at each of the dark-skinned beauties. "You... and _you_!" he cried then he pointed at Alfred and Chamise with his thumb over his shoulder, "Let's _show _those wankers we can party as well!" The girls cheered excitedly as they helped the half-drunk Arthur off the stool. The Brit had them on either side and snaked his arms around their waists. He turned to his shoulder looking at the dumbfounded Kiku. "Be right back," he told the Asian, then a small smirked appeared on his face adding, "...maybe." The Brit staggered off with the giddy ladies before Kiku had the chance to say anything.

The Brit stood in the middle of the dance floor having the girl in blue to his front and the one in lavender on the back. Arthur sharply pulled the blue one up to his chest, making her squeak by surprise. The lavender girl giggled and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind.

"British boy getting _**freaky **_up in here," the blue girl laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to the beat of the song.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me British boy," he groaned. "It's Arthur." He turned back at the one dancing behind him and back at the other in the front "What can I call you ladies besides _Blue _and _Purple_?"

The one in blue giggled. "I'm Brandy."

The girl from behind placed her chin on the Brit's shoulder, wanting attention. "And I'm Shonda," she said rather loudly, nearly making Arthur's right ear go deaf. "And the one who was dancing with your friend is Shea. And of course Chamise already introduced herself. It's nice meeting you and your friends, Arthur. It's not everyday we come to a bar where there's only two or three of us black folks up in here." Shonda laughed out loud in the Brit's ear again, making the man wince.

"It's a pleasure." The Brit tried desperately to keep up with the grinding girls. Giving up, he just let them both lead instead. "So you ladies are here celebrating because your friend just dumped her old boyfriend?"

"Yep!" Brandy answered. "He was a trifling ass from the git-go."

"Tri.. Uh.. git...go?" Arthur blinked.

Shonda giggled from behind him. "He was a stupid jerk." She explained.

"Or in other words... 'He's utterly... horrendous, '" Brandy said, imitating a British accent. Arthur chuckled and Shonda laughed right behind.

"That was quite good," the Brit admitted it. "Have any of you ever been to London?"

"Naw, but I do wanna visit Africa-visit my Roots, ya know?" Shonda answered.

"Ah, I see! And what about you, Ms. Brandy?"

"Ohh, I wanna visit Paris. I heard the men up there are... da bomb!"

Shonda reached around and gave Brandy a high five. "Okay?" she cried happily.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, I happen to work with one who might tickle your fancy."

"Is that rite?" Brandy smirked, scooting closer to the Brit. "Englishman gonna hook a sista up!"

"If you can get him out of my hair, he's all yours," Arthur grumbled.

"What? He gay or something?" Brandy cried pulling away from Arthur slightly.

"Wanker kissed me once. Unexpectedly."

Brandy cackled, throwing her head back. "Well, if he's gay, what makes you think he would wanna talk to me?"

Arthur smiled, shrugging. "I thought it would be worth a shot," he answered.

"Mm, baby I doubt that," Shonda butted in on the conversation. "You know the expression: Once you go black, you can't go back? Same goes with shaving, having sex, and being gay."

"Mm, I know that's right!" Brandy nodded, agreeing.

The Brit looked over at nothing in particular, thinking. Let's see... he would shave his five o'clock shadow once in a while. He enjoyed sex, and it was from another male. But he still loved women. Fuck, these two chicks already gave the poor Brit a hard on from their oversized bust pressed against him, as well as dry humping him. He never had sex with a woman before. He had been hearing from other guys about how amazing it felt to be inside of a woman. He would like to try it... one day. But he wondered if he ever experienced it, would he still prefer getting it from his American coworker? What does it matter if you're gay or straight? Sex was sex, and it wasn't like their relationship was going anywhere. Again... they were just fucking. And the Brit was sure he wasn't gay. Arthur looked over to check up on Alfred and his new lady friend, but they were nowhere to be found. The Brit frowned.

_I should have fucking known. Stupid horn dog wanker. _

The Brit was suddenly cut off from his train of thought when he saw a flash of pink in the dance crowd and was heading their way. It was Shea, and she looked terrified. Heracles was not too far behind, and he had a concern look on his face. Arthur blinked with confusion. He watched as Shea was waving an arm around frantically, the oversize gold bangles she was wearing could almost be heard from across the room.

"Brandy! Brandy!" the Brit heard the girl call out.

Arthur stopped dancing. "Um, ladies, I believe... your friend Ms. Shea seems awfully upset about something." The girls pulled away from the Brit and looked around.

"Where she at?" Shonda asked. Arthur pointed to where the panicking girl and the Greek were. Both girls half jogged carefully over to her in their high heeled shoes. Arthur followed after them.

"Shit, Brandy! Shonda... gurl!" Shea began as they finally made it over to the scared chick.

Brandy placed a hand on the trembling girl's shoulder. "Gurl, calm down. What's wro-"

"Gurl, he's here!" Shea answered before Brandy could get the question out.

"Who, gurl?"

"Big Pootie!" she cried out, looking at Brandy like she was dense.

Arthur blinked. "Big Pootie?" he asked, blinking. "W-wait-what? What... who is-"

"I-it's Chamise's old boyfriend." Heracles explained.

"Oh, dear." Arthur frowned. He suddenly became sober from hearing this breaking news. He began looking around, seeing if he could spot a glasses wearing blond and a hint of red nearby.

"I can't find Chamise," Shea cried. "Have ya'll seen her?"

"Hopefully... not here," Heracles replied.

"Ms. Shea, what does this Pootie person look like?" When the Brit asked that question, he heard a commotion going on further down the bar. It was a man yelling out. The only thing the Brit could make out was "Imma kill 'em if she's with somebody. I swear to god" continuously. Arthur looked through the crowded people who ceased their dancing. Then he spotted him. Arthur's green eyes widen with fear. "Oh dear..."

A tall, dark, and sweaty man, no taller than Ivan, and four hundred pounds of suffocating waiting to happen was storming pass the crowd looking around, looking for someone. That someone was Chamise... and if she was with a certain someone who owned a penis wasn't going to be too happy to see this beast. "Where she at?" his deep voice called out at no one in particular. "I saw her car parked out front! Where she at?" Seconds later, four puny bouncers who had nothing on this giant, went over to the sweating pig, asking him to leave and not cause a scene. "I'll leave when I get my girl! Step up!" Big Pootie roared and lashed his upper body at them like he was going to attack. The bouncers backed away from the man.

This was bad. No... this was fucked up.

Arthur continued looking around to see if could spot his coworker, or at least made sure he was nowhere in sight. If he really was back home with the bimbo, he wouldn't care as long as he was gone. Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Let me call the git to see where the hell they are," he told the group as he scanned through the numbers off his address book menu. When he finally spotted the American's phone number, a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Arthur," the Greek said, pointing out over the Brit's shoulder. "They're at the bar... with Kiku." Arthur looked over at the bar table and spotted the three. Chamise was yelling out something, holding an empty beer bottle and was trying to charge at the giant, but Alfred held her back.

"What the _hell _is he doing?" the Brit cried as he ran over to them. Heracles and the girls followed him. When Arthur made it over, he could hear the angry girl more clearly.

"Let me go!" she cried. "I'm gonna knock his head clear off with this damn bottle!"

"Chamise-san, please," the Asian man said trying to calm her. "This is not the way to solve this situation."

Arthur walked over to Alfred and grabbed his arm while Chamise's girlfriends took the empty bottle from her, trying to calm her down. "Let's go, git!" he hissed at the American.

Alfred turned to the nervous smaller blond. "For what?" he asked. "I did nothing wrong. I'm not going anywhere 'til I know Chamise is safe."

"_You _should be the one concern about your safety, wanker!" The Brit pulled his arm again. "Let me take you home."

"He's right," Heracles agreed. "I don't think... we should stick around for this."

"Please, Alfred-san." Kiku begged, getting nervous as well.

"Chamise," Brandy cried frowning at her friend. "You said that you didn't want to see him. So let's just go!"

"Fuck that! I **wanna **see him!" the sassy one in red snapped while trying to break from the taller blond's hold. "Alfred, let me go! I ain't scared of that FAT ASS!"

"You ain't scared of **what**?" yelled out a deep voice.

Eight heads looked up... way up to see the fat ass known as Big Pootie approaching them. The Brit got a better look at the lard. He had a nappy fro with a comb pick in his hair, wearing a faded black shirt with wetness around the collar (sweat obviously), surprisingly sagging jeans, and black sneakers. He was wheezing and huffing, trying to catch his breath. The Brit thought this could be a good break to run while he was trying to recover, but the American was not moving an inch.

"Chamise, how you gonna break up with me?" The giant asked, holding up his hands. "Me! Big Pootie!"

"Pootie! I told you already. I'm not putting up with you anymore!" Chamise cried still trying to break free from the taller blond's hold. "You're always with your boys! You don't have time for me! My girls are telling me they be seeing you with other girls! Hell, Pootie, you don't tell me you love me anymore!"

"And you couldn't tell me this shit before dumping me?"

"You never listen to me either, you fat fuck!"

Alfred and the crowd behind Pootie snickered. Arthur gasped and elbowed him.

The fat monster glared at the American. "Oh..." Pootie frowned, nodding. "I see. So now you got over me, and you going out with this sorry punk!"

Alfred chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Well, she didn't think that when we were on the dance floor." Alfred grinned as a crowd of people were making cat noises.

"Alfred, shut up!" the Brit hissed.

The fat man glared back at his ex. "You were gonna sleep with this sucka?"

"Maybe," Chamise harshly replied, folded her arms, rolling her neck a few times. More commotion from the crowd was heard. "What cha gonna do about it? I broke up with you. I can do what I want."

"You can do what you want, huh?"

"Mm-hm!"

"Well, guess what, Chamise?" the monster began before glaring back and the smirking Alfred. "I can do what I want too... and I'm gonna strangle this mutha fucka 'til you take me back!" Pootie slowly started walking over to where Alfred and Arthur were. Chamise cried out and broke free from Alfred's hold. She ran over to her ex, trying to push the oversize man back, but it was no use. Chamise's girls were crying with fear, watching helplessly.

Kiku walked over to stop it, but Heracles pulled him away to safety.

A freaking out Arthur was trying to pull the grinning Alfred off the stool to get a head start to the emergency exit door. It was only twenty feet away from them. Again, the cocky Alfred wouldn't budge.

"I never fought Godzilla before," came the smart remark from the American as the crowd laughed.

"Oh, you are dead, white boy!" The monster pushed the small woman to the side and stomped over to him. The girls rushed over to Chamise's aid when she fell to the sticky floor.

"You stay away from him, Pootie!" the ex-girlfriend screamed out.

Arthur never felt so scared for anyone before. Although Alfred deserved a good punch in the face for being such a dumbass, the Brit didn't want to see him die. As the Godzilla was getting closer to them, the Englishman panicked, and often when people panic, they do the unthinkable without even fucking thinking. "Fucking git..." Arthur roughly grabbed the startled American by the collar and kissed him directly in the mouth.

Pootie paused.

Kiku and Heracles blinked.

The Fanta girls blankly stared.

The whole bar grew quiet.

When he felt it was safe, Arthur pulled away, panting. He glared at the dazed American. "You owe me," he whispered before dragging the American by the collar and walked him to the exit door.

**00000000**

After a quick and quiet ride back to Alfred's apartment... or was it Arthur's? The Brit didn't care at the moment as he slammed **someone's **front door behind him, dropped his car keys, and attacked Alfred's lips. Alfred wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist and walked him backwards toward the couch. Arthur stumbled and fell back, landing on the cushions. The American carefully placed his body on top to keep from crushing the man. The tipsy blond looked down at the panting Brit and smirked.

The horny Englishman frowned and grabbed Alfred by the collar once again, bringing his face close to his. The American just continued smirking, looking amused. "I said..." Arthur panted, "...you owe me." Alfred made no response except kissing the Brit deeply and ripped another one of Arthur's favorite's shirts again, exposing his chest. The Brit grunted in their kiss at that, but it didn't stop him from reaching down and unfastening his and the American's pants.

Alfred broke the kiss and pulled away. He sat up and reached over slipping off Arthur's shoes. Seconds later, he grabbed a hold of the Brit's pants and underwear, sliding them off his ankles and turning them inside out. The tall blond tossed them across the room and walked back over to the sprawled out Englishman. "So... I owe you my life, right?" the American asked, smirking and reached underneath his pants, pulling out his prized possession.

The panting and flushed Brit with his ruffled hair, ripped opened shirt, and his member twitching painfully, wanting to be touch, stroked, sucked on, bitten, all the fucking above, glanced up at his coworker. "That's what fuck friends are for right?" he panted.

Alfred chuckled. "I guess you're right."

The Brit sat up from the couch and grabbed a hold of Alfred's pants leg. He pulled the grinning American up closer, opened his mouth and closed his eyes before Alfred's length slid down his throat.

Alfred took shaky breaths as his partner began blowing him slowly and painfully. The American looked down at him, running his fingers though the Brit's hair. "If you make me come in your mouth," he breathed, "you're gonna have to put me in the mood again so I can screw you."

The head bopping Brit glared up at the American before pulling out to catch his breath. He wrapped his hand around Alfred and began stoking him. "I'll gladly be sure to if that happens," Arthur answered. "All tabs are on you tonight, git." The Brit slipped the length back in his mouth with a soft groan.

Alfred bit his lower lip and pulled the Brit's hair slightly. "If you say so," the tall blond breathed. In mid-suck, Alfred's cell phone went off. He pulled his hand away from Arthur's head and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and answered it. "Hello?"

The Brit continued sucking his coworker off.

"_It's Heracles... Are you two okay?"_

Alfred looked down at his coworker. "We're fine. We just got here. Are Chamise and the others okay? And Kiku?" Arthur looked up at Alfred and bit the American's base slightly. Alfred winced.

"_They're all fine. After you two left... Chamise told that guy off," _the Brit heard Heracles answer. _"He didn't say... or do anything. He just stood there... shocked."_

Alfred laughed. "I guess he couldn't get over the fact his old girlfriend had the hots for a guy who swing both ways."

The Brit pulled out and trailed his tongue down the base and moved to his testicles, slipping them in his mouth.

Heracles hummed. _"I had no idea you... and Arthur were dating," _he said.

"Nah," the American looked down at his busy coworker again, stroking his hair. "We're just... BFFs."

Arthur grunted and bit down the American's balls a little harder than he did to his member. Alfred flinched and gasped.

"_Um... Chamise told me you two exchanged numbers. I think... she was pointing out hat she was still interested." _

"Really?" the American chuckled, watching the Brit slipping his length back in his mouth.

"_Yeah. And I think the other girls... are interested in Arthur as well."_

Alfred's smirk grew bigger and made the Brit pull himself out. "Oh _really_?" The American made the confused Brit turn around and placed his hands and knees on the cushions. "I never thought Arthur could be such a ladies man..." Arthur blushed and turned to his shoulder, staring up at his partner. He grew nervous when he saw an evil smirk on Alfred's face.

"_He was dancing with two of them... at the same time."_

Alfred took his free hand and guided himself to the Brit's opening. Arthur's eyes widen and he looked back at the man again, shaking his head and mouthing, "no." Quietly holding in his breath, the taller blond roughly pushed himself inside.

"Hnn!" Arthur arched his back and cupped his mouth. He breathed heavily out of his nose.

_Damn... American..._

"Two of them?" the American smirked and began thrusting his hips. "Lucky guy." The American took his free hand and roughly connected it against one of Arthur's bare butt cheek.

"Mm!" The Brit jerked forward from the hard impact, feeling his stiff member slapping his stomach.

"_What's that noise?"_ the Englishman heard the Greek asked clearly over the phone.

"A nasty bug in my apartment," the American answered.

_-smack-_

"Mm!"

"_Is Arthur there with you?"_

"He's using the bathroom," Alfred answered simply.

_-smack-_

"NH!" the flushed Brit turned to his shoulder glaring at the dominating American.

"_Must be a big bug..." _The Greek replied.

_-smack-smack-_

Arthur muffled a "fuck" behind his hand.

"Don't worry," Alfred chuckled pounding faster inside the bug named Arthur. "I'll get him."

_-smack-smack-smack-_

Arthur should have bit the American off when he had the chance. The Brit hissed at the awful American, "Fucking git... slap the oth-" _-SMACK-_ "Ffff!"

_I will __**kill **__him..._

"I'll see you guys at work tomorrow," Alfred told the Greek coworker over the phone. "I'm going to see Arthur to the door."

_-smack-_

"Mh!"

"_Talk to you two tomorrow then," _Heracles replied before hanging up. Alfred hung up his phone and placed on the table before going back to penetrate the now loud groaning Brit.

"You were gonna have fun with the girls tonight, huh?" the tall blond panted with a smirk.

The Brit looked up at his partner with a frown. "What about... you and Ms. Chamise? Nhh... You were eager to fuck... nh... her... weren't you?"

_-smack-_

"Ahh!"

"What if I was going to?" The dominating man gently brushed his hand across Arthur's red hand printed butt cheek. "You were gonna be jealous?"

"Pff! Of course... ah... not! I just find it stupid of you thinking about sleeping with people you've just met."

_-SMACK-_

"Hahhh! Smack the other side, you arsehole!"

"You just met her friends also," the American replied, rolling his hips against the Brit's. "Were you going to?"

"I might... _-smack- _Nhhh... have," Arthur blushed before reaching down to stroke himself. Alfred grabbed his hand before he had a hold of his own length and pulled it behind his back. "N... wait... what are you...?"

Alfred smirked. "If you did and you enjoyed sleeping with them, were you gonna stop being my fuck buddy?"

"Why the fuck should I tell-"

_-SMACK-_

"Hhnn!" Arthur growled angrily, turning back at the chuckling American. "Knock it off!"

The taller blond made a playful pout. "You don't like it?"

_-smack-smack-_

The Brit automatically pushed his hips back from the next hand smack.

_Bloody... hell __**yes**__!_

"Looks like your hips are enjoying it."

_-smack-_

"S-shut the fuck up..." the blushing Brit muttered and turned back front grasping the cushion with his free hand.

_-smack-_

"You should... I'm the one keeping the tabs, remember?"

The Brit was feeling too good to argue. His free arm was giving out on him, so he rested his upper body on the soft cushion while his hips were still in the air. "Keep it... coming then..." the Brit dared. The American smirked before making fast hard thrust. Arthur cried out. "W-w-w-wait... n-not-t-t l-li-i-ik-e-e-e... F-F-F-FU-U-UCK-K-K...!"

The Brit really should be more careful with his sex requests.

_**Damn... not happy with this chapter. Well, what can ya do? Wow, this is the ninth chapter? That's a lot to me... I mean 30 or 40 or 50 chapters is big, but I didn't think I would make it to 9 chapters so far... that's a lot to me. Well, let's see how far I can take this shall we? To be continued.**_

_**~see dem stars (*)~**_

_1) It was the peppermint shot, and a strong one at that. Pepperminty, but strong. (*) __**(I was at a bar with my roommates. One of my buddies was holding out a shot glass with some alcohol in it. He offered me some. He said it was a peppermint shot. "Ohhh! Sure, I'll try it," I told him. I took it from him and shot the glass back to da head. I gagged. I swear to god... I was already drunk from that one shot (bcuz I'm not a drinker). My friend laughed at me and said: "Um... I only wanted you to take a sip of it." I felt bad and told him sorry... that was also the night that I discovered that I indeed love both men and women, but I won't get into that... *blushes*)**_

_**be safe and stay alert for the next chapter!**_

_**-CryHOg**_

**Quick update, and Apology from the author: **_Hey, guise! Ms. Piggy here. Okay, about the last chapter(chapter 9)_

If this chapter happens to offend **ANYBODY **(I don't care who you are), **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE**, let me know, and I'll change it up a bit. I gotta little concern from one of my reviewers about the beautiful African American ladies in the chapter-in which they called it "portrayal of stereotypical black people." I only hope it didn't make him/her or **anyone **upset. But if it did, I will gladly tweek the chapter a bit. And in case anyone is a little curious or don't know by now... I am African American, but regardless I will be more than happy to edit this chapter, if it seems offensive to you. Thank you guys for your support! Be safe!

-CryHOg


	10. Chapter 10

**Greetings from the author:** Konichiwa, peepoles! Okay, don't hate me... heheh... it's kinda funnie really, but uh... this chapter... doesn't have sex on here for now.

T3T Are you mad at me...?

*seeing the readers clicking the 'Back' button*

Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuu Dun gooooooooo! *bawls* DX

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_ _**(Ooga Booga Dick-a-Dee Doo-Doo)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 10)~**

**00000000**

"Get off. I can't breathe," the panting Brit grunted, trying to push the spent American off him. Alfred groaned and raised himself off the grumpy man. He got off the couch and tucked himself back inside his pants before fastening them back up.

Arthur sat up painfully, and also crawled out the couch. He glanced down at his ruined shirt and grumbled. He brushed back his hair and looked around the floor, trying to spy his pants and underwear in the dim light. Something landed on top of his head, blinding him as he turned his head to the American. The Brit heard his partner snickering. Arthur sighed angrily before he snatched off what was on him. He looked down, seeing it was his pants and underwear, both inside out. He began fixing his wrinkled garments.

"You're heading home?" the American asked him while heading to the kitchen.

The Brit slipped his underwear on first, making an uncomfortable face as he pulled them up to his icky and damp hips. "I didn't bring any extra clothes with me," he answered. "Of course I'm leaving." Arthur fixed his pants and slipped them back on. "We got work tomorrow, or have you forgotten?"

The taller blond returned with a bottle of water in his hand. "I wouldn't mind you staying. Just leave early in the morning."

"Absolutely not," the blushing Brit murmured as he grabbed his shoes, slipping one on. "If I stay here, I know I won't get a good night's rest."

Alfred smiled and walked over to him. "I won't try anything," he told the smaller blond, failing to keep a straight face.

Arthur glared at the man. "Don't you ever fucking think of anything that has **nothing **to do with... fucking?"

The American's smile suddenly faded. He stared at Arthur with a unreadable expression, but the Brit didn't catch the look on his coworker's face because he was too busy straightening out the back edge of the shoe that his blasted heel folded down. Alfred twisted open the bottle and looked away from the grumbling Brit. He stared blankly at nothing in particular. "Everyday..." he murmured.

"What? I didn't catch that..." The one shoe wearing man frowned and looked up at the daydreaming American. He just noticed his coworker had his glasses off. Arthur remembered that night when he watched the man sleeping without them. And staring at him now while he was fully awake... he couldn't help but to realize that the git was still beautiful. The side feature of Alfred's face was still handsome, gorgeous, and perfect. But he also noticed something in the taller blond's blue eyes. Alfred's orbs were filled with happiness, but the Brit was sure he saw something else there... a mixture of love maybe. And there was sadness as well. The quiet American broke into a soft smile with a chuckle. The Brit's eyes narrowed and twisted his lips, trying to figure this man out, asking, "Are you thinking about fucking me now, or is it just gas?"

The American broke out of his trance and turned to Arthur with a small smile. "Nah. Just thinking about fucking Chamise." The tall blond grinned, winking at the now frowning Brit.

Arthur slipped his other shoe on and walked angrily over to the door. "Good night, wanker." He bended over, reaching for his car keys he tossed on the floor.

Alfred laughed again and walked over to his angry coworker, wrapping his arms around him from behind with his opened bottle still at hand. He felt the smaller blond trying to break free from the hold. "I'm kidding, Arthur..." he explained in a gentle tone. Alfred's voice sounded so different and sincere. The Brit was almost convinced.

"Hmph," the Brit huffed. "You are still a damn horn dog." Arthur tried elbowing the man, but Alfred's hold was strong. He twisted his body from side to side. Some of the water spilled on the carpet. "I want to go home. Release me at once!"

Alfred rested his forehead against Arthur's shoulder, still refusing to let go.

Arthur's shoulders slumped and let out an annoying sigh. "Git... if I tell you that you can do anything you want with my body all this weekend, will you let me go then?"

Alfred held him tighter, sighing a shaky sigh.

The Brit frowned, turning to his shoulder. "Git?"

"Stay," the American whispered quietly on the Brit's shoulder. "I'll let you sleep tonight. Really... I won't try anything."

The Brit was going to deny his offer again, but Alfred increased his hold on the small man as if he knew the Brit was going to refuse. Defeated, Arthur let out another sigh, or at least tried to while the man's tight grip was making him hard to breathe. "Let some air go through my blasted lungs, and I will stay." The smaller blond felt his coworker loosen his grip, but he still held on.

"Promise?" came another whisper.

The Brit frowned again. His coworker was acting really strange. "I promise I will stay for the night. Let's go to bed already." The American leaned over the Brit's shoulder pressing his lips against his blushing cheek while placing a free warm hand on his shoulder, rubbing it in a friendly gesture. The American finally pulled away. Arthur just stood still, facing the door. He heard foot steps behind him walking away.

"I'm gonna take a shower," the smaller blond heard his coworker say down the hallway. A door was close shut, and there was a faint of water running seconds later.

Arthur blinked once again, lost at what that awkward moment was a few moments ago. He turned to the hallway with his head tilted to the side. "The bloody hell was that?" the Brit murmured to himself.

**00000000**

Tossing and turning, the Brit couldn't get one wink of sleep. He turned to the side and watched the clock on the night stand. The green light read 1:00AM. He should have been sleeping a few hours ago. Maybe the smaller blond wasn't used to sleeping in someone else's bed. He turned over, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He heard a few vehicles zooming down the road from outside the American's window. It was followed by a car horn blowing angrily. Whatever was going on outside, that driver was ticked off at someone. Then there was a dog barking before a person was talking, gently demanding it to quiet down. The Brit blinked questionably in the dark.

_Hana... Han... Hanatamago? __What the bloody hell is that?_

The confused Brit was wondering if that was dog's name. _A strange name_, he thought. Damn... he really wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed. He turned his body to the other side, seeing that his coworker he was sharing the bed with was fast asleep. The street light outside was bright enough for Arthur to see the taller man's peaceful face. The only thing that crossed the restless man's mind when he looked at Alfred was handsome... and git.

_~Earlier~_

While Alfred was in the shower, the smaller blond went straight to his bedroom. He slipped off his pants, his "Hulk" shirt, and slipped into the covers. Later, the Brit heard the water turned off. The American walked into the room. His Micahangelo's David's body was drenched with a thick towel wrapped around his waist. He walked over to his drawer and pulled out a white T-shirt and handed it to the smaller blond. Arthur took it and thanked him before he watched his coworker smile softly and left the room again. Arthur watched him head back to the bathroom and hearing the water turned back on. Later, when smaller blond closed his eyes and failing to fall asleep, he heard footsteps, rummaging of the drawer, footsteps again, the clicking noise of the light switch, more footsteps, movement on the bed, and silence. The Brit opened his eyes in the dark, waiting for the American to try something, but nothing came. Arthur blinked and stared at the clock. Then his eyes trailed around the room, waiting to see if something was going to happen. Nothing. All was quiet but awkward. The git really did keep his word after all. That was good, the Brit guessed, but he couldn't help but to feel a little disappointed... "Alfred?" the Brit said quietly. He really wasn't sure what he was going to say to him. Just now, something felt a little off. The atmosphere felt uncomfortable in a saddening way.

"You're welcome to use the shower too if you want," Arthur heard his coworker tell him from behind. "I know how you hate it when your hair and clothes smell like smoke." And that was all that was said from the American. No teasing. No touching. Nothing. This was very strange.

"Um... t-thank you."

Alfred was right though. The Brit couldn't stand smelling like smoke after he left the bar. He wasn't going to sleep well if he was smelling like a cigarette. With a sigh, the Brit pulled the sheets off him and climbed out of bed. He took his time, walking out the bedroom and entered the bathroom, thinking that maybe his coworker was going to follow him. Alfred never left the room. The Brit spent the past 12 minutes in the shower without any disturbance from the taller man. Arthur frowned while he was in the middle of washing his hair.

_Honestly, what the hell?_

_~end flashback~_

And now, here he was, three hours later, wide awake and just staring at his American coworker in the dark. He really couldn't stand being an insomniac. If he had nothing else to do for the rest of the night, he preferred just going to bed. Why the hell couldn't he fall asleep? Ever since Alfred was acting different after they slept together, he couldn't get it out of his mind. The look in the git's eyes seemed really off to Arthur. The Brit continued to watch Alfred, listening to his soft breathing. The Brit thought the American would be the loud, snoring type. His breathing was actually soothing. He could smell the strong mountain breeze scented soap on him... which was soothing as well. The Brit bathed himself with the same bar of soap, but smelling it on Alfred was better for some reason.

_Damn you for looking __**and **__smelling good. Even in your sleep you still seduce me don't you, geezer?_

The American made a deep sigh in his sleep as if he was responding to Arthur's thought. The Brit sighed deeply in return, still watching him. He had no clue why he couldn't turn away from the man. It was mostly disturbing to watch another person sleep, but watching this American was almost... enjoyable. He wondered if the git watched him that day when he passed out during their sex. Then again, Alfred probably got a kick out of it. Knowing Arthur, he might have been drooling all over the pillows with his sore ass still in the air. He was sure he thought he heard snickering before he came to that day.

_Fucking git._

Arthur's coworker sighed deeply again with a soft, yet sexy moan.

_Stop mocking me...!_

The Brit reached out his hand, getting ready to pluck the sleeping beauty on the forehead, but he paused. Just because the Brit had trouble sleeping didn't give him the right to take it out on his coworker. And even if he did end up plucking the git awake, Alfred would probably automatically roll over on top of the Brit, pin him down, and fuck him raw, underwear and all. Was that even possible? Arthur didn't have the nuts to find out. So instead, he took a finger and carefully brushed a few strains of blond hair from the man's forehead. It was soft and tickled a bit between the smaller blond's fingers. He trailed an index finger down Alfred's cheek bone and to his chin. Arthur's eyes softened and used his thumb to trace it across the sleeping man's lips so lightly. Alfred's face was so warm. Arthur spent nearly five whole minutes tracing his coworker's face with his fingers ever so gently, memorizing every structure and feature on this fine art from this so-called git.

_Why the hell am I doing this?_

Why did it matter? It felt nice. In fact, Arthur felt like he could do this all night.

"Mmh..."

The Brit froze and carefully retracted his hand. He held in his breath, watching his coworker stir and frown slightly.

"Mm... pirate... go t' sleep, honey..." the American groggily murmured before falling back to his deep slumber.

Arthur's thick eyebrow lifted and squinted his eyes in confusion.

_Pirate? Did he just bloody call me a pirate?_

Alfred sighed deeply again before turning over to his side, his back facing Arthur. The Brit stared at his back, looking baffled.

_Pirate?_

Maybe the git was dreaming and talking in his sleep, but what the hell was he dreaming about that had something to do with pirates? Did he date someone by that name? That must had been an awkward moment for Alfred whenever they were in bed together. Arthur suddenly began to yawn, finally feeling sleepy. It was about blasted time, he thought. He'll have time to worry about the American's weird behavior and whatever the hell he was dreaming about another time. Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. He opened them again, staring at the taller blond's lean back. The Brit shivered a bit.

_It's always so blasted cold in here. I don't think this wanker never touches his thermostat._

Knowing he would regret it later, he quietly scooted his body closer to the taller blond's warmth. He prayed to the Queen of England the man wouldn't turn over and suffocate him in the middle of the night. He closed his eyes once again. Five hours of sleep awaited the Englishman.

_Night, wanker._

**00000000**

"Arthur! 'Ello, mate!" Greeted the company's security guard as an annoyed Arthur pulled up to the gate to his job this morning. The Brit just gave the heavy man a half wave and drove on to the parking garage. He couldn't stand that guy... Kevin, was it? He was super friendly to the Brit and had an interest in anything that had to do with British culture. He enjoyed talking Arthur's head off and trying to imitate a British accent, wanting to be one. Arthur missed the days when people took an interest in Asian culture. Americans were so weird.

Arthur parked his car in a nice parking spot that was not too far from the elevator. The Brit yawned before grabbing his suitcase from the passenger seat. He didn't feel tired, not yet anyway. He hoped getting five hours of sleep last night was enough for his eight-hour job.

_~Earlier this morning 7:50AM~ _

Around seven in the morning, the Brit woke up feeling warm and snugly. When he looked up, he discovered why. Next to him was the American still asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around him. The smaller blond then looked down and could see that they were still dressed in their T-shirtsand there was no surprise sex. Drats. Arthur tried pulling away from the man's hold, but the American moaned softly and pulled the Brit closer, murmuring to stay another hour. Arthur frowned and tried breaking free again, reminding the sleeping bum about work and the time. The taller blond freed his coworker and watched Arthur crawled out of the king-sized bed and slipped his pants back on. Alfred offered to cook some breakfast, but the Brit didn't think he would have enough time even though he truly wanted some of Alfred's cooking. As he was dressing, he was waiting for some stupid remarks or jokes from the American, but the taller blond did nothing but watched him quietly with no expression. Feeling uncomfortable once again, Arthur told the git he'll see him at work later and left the Arthur headed toward the American's front door, he thought he heard a "thank you" just faintly back in the bedroom. The Brit paused for a second. He turned to his shoulder to see if the man was going to be right behind him out of nowhere, but no Alfred. Frowning, the smaller blond shrugged it off and left the apartment.

_~end flashback~_

The Brit stepped out of his car and yawned for the third time this morning. It was a Friday, but he knew it was going to be a slow and long one. He was thankful that he had enough time to fix him some hot tea before the trails and tribulations of the Freedom Unit card holders would commence. As he walked away from his car, the Brit paused.

_My tea..._

Arthur turned back to his car, getting ready to fetch his tea he kept in his reusable 15oz cup. The Brit looked inside the window of his car. He blinked to find that his beverage holder was bare. This couldn't be right. He was sure he made the damn tea, poured it in his cup, but then he realized he forgot to grab his briefcase when he was about to leave the apartment. So he put the cup down and... Arthur closed his eye in dismay, realizing his freshly made Earl Grey tea was still sitting on the kitchen counter in his apartment 15 minutes away from his job. The Brit was supposed to make it at his workstation around 9AM. The time now was 8:55AM. The fuming Arthur lifted his briefcase over his shoulder as if he was getting ready to smash his car window, but pulled away instead, hissing out a...

"Fffff-FUCK... God...DAMMIT!"The loud outburst caused a few car alarms to go off behind the Brit. Arthur jumped by surprise and whipped around at the loud noise behind him. However, he turned a bit too fast and stumbled, but his car managed to keep him from falling. As the Brit's back hit the side of his car, it caused his alarm to go off as well. "Blimey!" The Brit jumped again and whipped around at his own vehicle, dropping his briefcase and holding out his hands in defense. Like dominos, more car alarms around Arthur began going off, echoing all across the parking garage. The embarrassed Englishman looked around him, different loud alarm noises surrounding him. It was like being in a Twilight Zone. "...Fuck," he murmured, wondering if every employee and their child owned a security system in their car. Hoping no one saw him (besides Kevin who had a security TV in his booth to keep a close watch on anything suspicious on any of the floors in the parking garage), Arthur snatched up his briefcase and rushed to the elevator. He made it to the door, pressing the up button continuously and looking back at the cars.

What a way to start off the day, he thought. The elevator doors finally parted open, and the shameful Brit rushed inside. He pressed the floor button to his destination and leaned back against the wall. He sighed as he rubbed his face with his palm as the doors closed once again. "Blimey." The Brit looked up and watched the numbers lighting up. Arthur yawned again. Dammit, he didn't think he was going to make it without his hot tea.

_Stupid American... "Please stay. Just one more hour." Pff! If he didn't make me feel sorry for him a little bit, I wouldn't be having this rough morning. And I would have my damn tea. ...oh bollocks. And what about that kiss from last night? Kiku and Heracles are probably telling the entire world about it. If they find out the things we did together, I can never show my face in this company ever again... this country for that matter! It's all his damn fault. All of it. I'm not speaking to him the rest of the day. That'll show the son of a-_

_-ding-_

The Brit looked up, seeing that he had arrived at his floor. He cautiously stepped out the elevator, glancing around to see if anyone was watching him or giving him strange looks. The coworkers all looked too busy to even noticed the Brit showing up. So far so good, he thought.

"Morning, Arthur."

The Brit jumped, yet again, not noticing someone approaching him. He turned to see it was Heracles, holding a cup of coffee. Lucky bastard.

"You all right?" asked the Greek before taking a sip of his strong coffee.

The Brit sighed, placing a head to his forehead. "Yes, I'm... fine. Just had trouble sleeping is all."

The brunette nodded with a hum, patting the tensed Brit on the shoulder. "After all that happened last night... I understand."

Arthur paled, thinking back about last night of him and Alfred kissing in front of two of his coworkers and complete strangers. "Yes, well... about that..."

The Greek held up his hand and slowly nodded, completely understanding. "Never happened. If Kiku were in the same predicament... I would have done the same." The Greek looked down at his cup with a blush, muttering something to himself.

"Beg your pardon?" the frowning Brit asked.

"Forget it." The Greek looked back up at his coworker. "Don't worry. You have Kiku's... and my word to not tell anyone what you had go through to help Alfred. I know... how much you can't stand him... as much as you can't stand Francis."

The Brit blinked at that. Did everyone really believe (minus the Francis part) that he couldn't stand Alfred? Sure, he could be bothersome like a hemorrhoid. No, wait... that was more like Francis. But it wasn't like Alfred was...

"I... well, I don't actually... really-"

"Heracles?"

In unison, both the Brit and Greek turned their heads to see who was the little visitor with a sassy tone interrupting. It was Feliks, a young man from Poland.

"Feliks," the brunette greeted him. "What's up?"

The short blond man took his time with his answer as he brushed his chin length hair behind his ears. "I have, like... a caller on the line. She doesn't, like speak English very well. She, like told me she was from Greece..."

"Okay," Heracles nodded. "I'll meet you... at your cubicle." The Poland man nodded an okay before glancing at the Brit and walked off.

The Brit still couldn't get over the man's strange accent. Arthur thought he sounded like a nagging school girl at times. He turned when he felt another pat on the shoulder from the Greek.

"You better log on to your computer... so the system won't count you for being late," Heracles said before walking off to Feliks's direction. "I'll catch you later."

"Oh, right. Thanks." The Brit watched the Greek walk off before heading off to his cubicle in the opposite direction. Arthur felt somewhat relived after talking to Heracles. He was sure he had nothing to worry about. Kiku had always been a trustworthy person and respected others. And he was sure Heracles would keep his mouth shut. He walked down the aisle listening in on a few of his coworkers phone conversations in their own cubicles along the way to his private workstation.

"Thank you for calling Freedom Unit. My name is Sadiq..."

"...that's quite fine, Mrs. Johnson! I'm glad I was able to assist..."

"Si! Muchas gracious... si... Hahaha! ...de nada..."

"...a' wh'n ya hav' n' mor' mon'y in th' card, y- ...I SAID... WH'N YA HAV' N' MOR'..."

"Yeah... she is **definitely **not wearing panties today... I told ya you shoulda sent your resum..."

"Hai... ano... s-sumimasen...

"I'm glad I was able to help you-ve! Ludwig is going to be so proud of me! ...oh! He's my boyfriend! We went to Olive Garden toge..."

Arthur finally made it to his cubicle. Once inside, he discovered something sitting on his desk. It was a white medium size paper sack and a Styrofoam cup. The blond lifted an eyebrow.

_Curious..._

Before he was about to investigate the mystery of the sack, he went over to his computer and quickly typed in his username and password. The words "Hello, Arthur Kirkland" greeted the Brit on the computer screen before it went to the desktop screen with the Freedom Unit logo showing. The clock on the screen read 9:01AM.

_A minute late. Better than nothing... now to see what's in this thing..._

Arthur sat on his chair and rolled over to the cup and sack. He looked around to see if anyone was watching or to see if the intruder who invaded his cubicle would reveal themselves. Everyone seemed to be pretty occupied with their work. Arthur turned back to the bag and opened it. There was a hint of fresh eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes filling the Brit's nostrils. Arthur's stomach was growling from the wonderful smell. He reached inside and pulled out the foam box. There was a posted note attached to it:

'_Sorry for not waking you up on time. I got you something on my way to work this morning. It's not my cooking, but the Diner's food is the next best thing. Hope you didn't have tea yet. I got that for you too. -Alfred'_

The hungry Brit's eyes soften as he opened the top. Steam was rising from the foam box revealing freshly made breakfast. He couldn't believe the git went through all this trouble for him. Suddenly, guilt began to bundle up inside the Englishman.

_Wanker... why is that when I get ticked off at you, you end up doing... something sweet?_

The Brit reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic knife and fork and began eating as much as he could before he went to work. Arthur really needed to thank him. The Brit wondered if he was close by. Putting his plastic ware down, he stood from his chair and looked over his cubicle to see if he saw the git around. The American was nowhere to be found on the east nor west side of the building. Arthur then looked over the other side see if he could spot the American in his cubicle. Alfred was located three cubicles away from the Brit. And sure enough he spotted the man sitting at his desk and talking on the phone. Arthur watched him from afar, wondering if he should get his attention. "Hm?" The Brit hummed as he watched his coworker closely. Alfred looked really upset while he was on the phone. He watched the taller blond leaned forward in his chair and began talking angrily with his free hand. Arthur couldn't make out what he was saying. He just blinked and continued staring at the worried American. Alfred leaned back in the chair, placed his elbow on the arm rest, and placed his fingertips to his forehead while still holding the phone with his other hand. The Brit couldn't see the American's face, but he could see that Alfred was sighing and nodding. Then Alfred nodded again. Finally, the American pulled his hand away from his face and began talking angrily with his free hand again. Alfred then stood still. He began to place his fingers to the bridge of his nose and nodded again. The American hung up the phone afterwards and sat back in his chair, placing a hand to his mouth, looking distraught. Arthur couldn't make out what that was all about, but he had never seen Alfred **this **upset before.

_What the bloody hell was that about? An angry customer? _

Arthur sat back in his chair before the American caught him spying. The Brit sat thinking. Should he call him and pretend he didn't see anything? It was none of his business anyway, but he felt concern all of a sudden. He turned to his phone. The Brit took a deep sigh and reached over to pick it up, but stopped.

_No... it's none of my damn business. I'm not worried about him. It was probably just a pissed off customer anyway. Do not get involved. _

Arthur turned his hand away and reached for his cup of tea instead. He popped open the top, watching the steam seep out the cup. It smelled really lovely to the Brit. He took a hold of the tea bag string and dunked the bag a few times. He closed his eyes and took a tiny sip, the hot liquid burning his lips. It didn't matter. That was how he liked it. He enjoyed very hot Earl Grey tea. Damn that wanker for being so generous. He took another sip of his drink and turned to his phone again.

_...I'll just call and thank him for breakfast, and that's it... that's all... nothing else._

The Brit put his cup down and reached over picking up the phone.

_Nothing to be scared of. I'm just going to thank him and hang up... but what if he yells at me for bothering him? _

Arthur's heart was pounding, and he was growing nervous. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Before the Brit was going to change his mind, the line was already ringing. He couldn't recall dialing the numbers that quick. That was scary.

_Ah! Blasted! Maybe I can just- _

"_This is Alfred!"_ went the cheerful voice, but not as cheerful. At least he didn't sound mad.

"Um..." The blushing Brit pulled the phone away from his mouth to clear his throat because of the crack in his voice. He placed the phone back to his mouth. "Hello... This is..."

"_Did you get your breakfast?" _Alfred asked him, sounding excited like a little boy.

"Uh..." Arthur began before clearing his cracked throat once again. "Yes... yes I did... thank you. That was very... thoughtful."

"_I knew you wouldn't have time for breakfast, so it was sorta my fault."_

Arthur then began blushing suddenly when he heard the American chuckle warmly on the other end. He just didn't sound like himself today. Where was the loud and energetic Alfred?

"You didn't... have to," the Brit murmured shyly, feeling pleased... maybe even giddy.

"_Just a little thanks for staying over last night... you didn't have to do that either. But I'm glad you did."_

The Brit just held the phone to his ear, trying to come up with something to say, anything.

"...do you want to come over later tonight...?"

Anything but **that**.

_Bullocks... I am __**fucking **__retarded!_

The American chuckled again. _"Does that offer of me doing anything to your body all weekend still stand?"_

The Brit frowned, seeing the wanker was back to normal almost, but it was okay. Arthur just wasn't used to seeing the git depressed. It would feel strange getting fucked by an emo Alfred.

"The offer stands now if you wish..."

"_..."_

The Brit pulled the phone away from his mouth the third time and mouthing swear words.

_Fuck!_

Why were thoughts in the Brit's mind suddenly being said out loud?

"_I thought you said no more bathroom sex." _The American said quietly, grinning. _"Breakfast isn't satisfying your appetite?"_

_No. I'm enjoying the food, you git..._

"I was hoping you'd be the main course-Ffffff...!" Arthur pulled the phone away, mouthing swear words once again.

_No, no! That was supposed to be the other way around! The bloody hell am I __**doing**__? _

Another sexy chuckle came from the American, making Arthur shiver. _"Well, then..." _the American said, _"if you wanna quickie..."_

"No... no... I..." the Brit sighed before continuing. "There's plenty of time for that later tonight. Look, just... come over to my place, and I'll make you... dinner in return."

"_...is this a date?"_

The Brit blinked. "A-a... a date?"

"_Yeah. A real date?"_

Arthur hesitated as he grabbed his plastic fork and started poking at his semi-warm food.

_A date? I wasn't thinking of the sort. I'm just being nice. Why the hell would he say date?_

"_...Arthur? Is it a date?"_

"D... do you want to come over or not?" the blushing Brit asked, sounding aggravated. "It's normal for friends to ask other friends out..." Arthur bit his tongue at what he said before recovering. "This is just a hangout thing! A normal dinner. Normal... well, minus the sex part-"

"_Arthur."_

The Brit snapped his lips shut when he heard the man say his name in a gentle voice. He wanted to hear it again.

"_What's going on?" _came the concern question.

The Brit let out a small chuckle. He looked down at his fork, now shish kebab with one of everything on the plastic utensil. The nervous Brit shoved the whole thing in his mouth. "Th' fuf mas y' fink som'in goin' on?" he asked with his mouth full.

"_I don't know," _the American answered softly. _"I'm just surprised you're asking me out... and being really nice... are you dying?"_

"W-Wha?" Arthur swallowed down his food and took a drink of his tea. "I'm not dying, wanker!"

Alfred chuckled again, sounding so sweet. The Brit honestly liked hearing his laugh, and it ticked him off that it did. _"Okay, just making sure. So what time would you like me to come over to our date?"_

"Hangout," the Brit corrected him. "Uh... I dunno... seven-thirty maybe?"

"_Seven-thirty it is. Would you like for me to bring anything?_"

"Um, no. I should have everything prepared when you get there." The Brit rolled his eyes before asking the silly question, "You're alright with... hamburgers and fries right?"

"_Most definitely!" _The American laughed.

"Good."

The smaller blond just held the phone, hearing other employees's chattering, phones ringing, and computer keyboards tapping on his coworker's end of the line.

"_Hey, Arthur?" _The taller blond spoke.

"Uh... yes?" The smaller blond replied, breaking out of the comforting silence.

"_Thanks for calling. It's really good talking to you..." _There was a pause, and small chuckle. _"It's... even better talking to you in person." _

"..." Arthur just remained silent, blushing more and feeling even guiltier than before about wanting to ignore the man today. First there was the food, and now this... a sweet-talking Alfred. Arthur was not used to this. It was too normal for the git.

_Alfred..._

"_See you tonight!"_

_-click-_

"See you..." the Brit replied to the disconnecting tone. Arthur slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up. He closed the top from his food back up and pushed it to the side for the time being. He turned his chair to his computer and opened the homepage of the Freedom Unit website before reaching over his filing cabinet and pulled out a folder of people's names and numbers on them. Arthur frowned and sighed. What was with these mixed emotions he was feeling.

_-ring-_

The Brit turned to the ringing of his phone. The ringing had a higher tone to it, indicating that it was a customer calling. The Brit reached over and answered. "Thank you calling Freedom Unit. This is Arthur." The Brit greeted ever so boringly.

"_Yes, hello, Mister Arthur. My name is Kathy," _a woman with a cheery voice greeted back, _"and I was hoping maybe you could help me. You see my husband and... well... ex-husband... we just got a divorce. We signed up for the FU Couple account so we could both put our savings together. Thankfully, I kept records of how much I deposit or take out just in case something like this would happen... And well, since we're not together anymore I was wanting to see..."_

While the Brit had the phone up his ear, all he could think about was his git coworker. He was getting more and more concern about him. He wanted to see him, just to be sure he was okay, or at least see if he was in his hyper and happy mood like he would normally be.

"_Mister Arthur? Mister Arthur are you still there?"_

"Oh..." the Brit broke out of his trance and turned back to the phone. "Um... actually Miss Katy-"

"_Ka-thy_..." the woman corrected him, sounding annoyed.

"Yes, right. Sorry. Right, um... I'm actually not too familiar with the F.U.C. account." The Brit lied, knowing each and everything thing FU offered from the back of his hand. "So I will transfer your call over to Francis. Is that alright?"

"_Um... okay?"_

So with that, the Brit put the woman on hold and dialed out the Frenchman's cubicle number, and hung up. Seconds later he picked up the phone again and dialed out Alfred's number. After two rings, someone answered.

"_This is Alfred!" _went the cheery, but again, not as cheery tone over the phone.

"Hey, it's me..." the Brit said shyly.

"_Hey! What's up?" _

The Brit took his free hand and brushed back his hair. "Well... um... the reason I called was..." Arthur was not too sure what to say. Should he ask him if he was feeling okay this morning? Ask him if he was okay from last night? Or why the hell he had a dream about pirates? "Would you..." the Brit swallowed, before continuing, "...like to have... lunch... later?"

"_Lunch?"_

"Yes..." the Brit replied taking a shaky breath. "...l-lunch."

There was a long pause. The Brit was growing nervous from this silent game.

_It's a yes or no question. Why was it taking him so long to fucki-_

"_Sure!"_

The blushing Brit sighed with relief. "Um... great, great... that's wonderful... um, thank you."

"_Anytime." _

Arthur can feel the American grinning on the other line. He immediately hung up before he ended up saying something he'll regret. He sighed and leaned back against his chair, trying to realize what the hell he got himself into. He took his hands and placed them to his stressed face. "I really am retarded," he murmured.

_**This looks like a nice stopping point, doesn't it...?**_

_**...**_

_**D8 Baw! C'mon ,guise! I said I was sorry there was no sex here this time. *sniffs* I mean just like playing FFXIII for hours, and hours, and hours on your 360/PS3, you gotta give your sex engines a rest once in a while. I promise to make it up to you. How 'bout that? Eh? Eh?**_

_**Oh, yeah! And as soon as I post up chapter 11, I think I'm gonna delete the Author's note/apology thing so that way this chapter won't be chapter 11-if I can do that. So don't get confused when chapter 11 is uploaded... I think I confused myself. We'll figure it out. Stay tuned and be safe!**_

_**-Cry**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Awesome author keeping promise is AWESOME: **_FUCK YEH!_

_So... are you ready for some more sweet hot smexy love (finally)? Or play some candyland... or both? Pff! Okay, okay, you can have your Amengland moment. Just be sure to put the pieces back in the board box when you're done! And to make sure your grandmommy doesn't walk in on ya. *giggles* Yes, I'm talking to you, Pyro (inside joke). Enjoy! Oh! Almost forgot..._

_****HUGE Reminder:**__ So we're all clear that this is__** Chapter 11 **__now, and not __**chapter 12**__? I just went ahead and deleted the __**Author Notes/Apology **__which was counted as __**chapter 10 **__and copy and pasted it on __**chapter 9 **__instead (Thanks for the advice, __**dontfeelguilty**__). So for those of you who've been absent in keeping up with the fic and skipped __**"chapter 10" **__and went on to __**"chapter 11" **__and if it looks a little off, then you __**have**__ to read __**chapter 10**__............ FUCK that's confusing. 8B_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_ _**(OH SHIT! PYRO... LOOK OUT! YOUR GRANDMA'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU! Pff... April Fools! :B)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 11)~**

**00000000**

_-knock knock-_

Arthur turned his chair around to see who was at his cubicle. "Alf... o-oh." The Brit blushed softly, thinking it would be the American at the door, but it turned out to be his Greek coworker Heracles instead. "Heracles... hello."

.

"Hey," the brunette greeted with a warm smile, "have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet," the Brit answered placing some papers to the side. "I was actually going to have lunch with... someone else."

"Oh, okay," the Greek said, nodding. "Kiku and I were heading over to Umi's to pick up our carry-out order. We asked Alfred, but he said he was already having lunch with someone also."

Arthur blushed when Heracles mentioned the American's name. He turned back to his papers and looked through them, but they were upside down.

The Greek stared at the odd man with concern. "You okay?"

"Hm?" the Brit hummed, not looking up at the Greek man. "Oh, yes... I'm fine.... just fine. Have a fun time at, um... Sakura's." Arthur went through the next upside down page.

"It's Umi's..." Heracles blinked a few times at Arthur's behavior and backed away slightly. "Well..." the brunette began, "I'll let you... get back to work. See ya, Arthur!"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Take care, Feliciano..." Arthur was in a daze, not realizing the Greek whose name was Feliciano now had already left. He checked his watch, wondering if Alfred was on his way to his cubicle. Every few seconds he turned to his doorway to see if he would show up. The Brit was fearing he wasn't going to appear. Maybe he changed his mind, he thought.

_Maybe I should call him... or have him call me? Where should we go out to eat? Bloody, why am I shaking? It's not like I asked the git to go to the prom! That does it! If he's not coming to my desk in the next ten seconds I'll call and tell him-_

_-knock knock-_

"Arthur?"

_...that he's here..._

The flushed Brit turned his chair around and saw a tall blond standing outside his doorway with a small smile on his face. "Oh..." Arthur said quietly, "You showed up...."

"Yep!" Alfred answered happily with a cute grin. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, um... yes... let me, um..." While Arthur began talking and looking up at the American like he was the boogey man, he reached over and placed the forgotten papers on the edge of his desk. The papers tilted over and scattered all over the floor. The Brit looked down seeing the mess. "Oh... um..." The Brit got out of his chair and kneeled to the floor to gather the white sheets. Sadly, the poor Brit was having trouble picking them up off the rubbery-like floor, making it hard to get a grip on them. "Um... fuck... j-just a second." The Brit managed to pick up two. Now there were thirty-eight more to go.

_I can get them later. But he's staring. He might think that I'm an untidy person... not that he hasn't seen my messy bedroom before. Okay... I'll just take my time... Is he still staring...?_

Arthur looked up and saw that Alfred was in fact still staring. The Brit blushed and turned away when the American flashed him a sweet smile.

Ah, _bollocks! Why won't he look away? Instead of standing there smiling like a buffoon, he should come down here and... _

The Brit then heard foot steps coming toward him. He tensed, sensing his American coworker kneeling next to him and helping him pick up the rest of the sheets.

"I watched Feliciano dropped some papers one time," the American spoked, picking the sheets up with ease. "Took him at least fifteen minutes to pick up every single piece of paper off this floor. It was funny and cute at the same time."

Arthur turned to the taller blond for a second before going back to picking up the remaining sheets. "Yes... uh... he is a rather funny man." the Brit agreed, reaching out for another sheet on the floor. At the same time, the American reached out and grabbed the same piece of paper, his hand brushing against Arthur's. The Brit quickly pulled away shyly from the contact. "S-sorry-"

"It's..." the American chuckled, turning to his coworker, "it's fine."

The Brit turned his head back at the American who was staring back at him still. Staring... staring... blushing... a soft grin... a nervous chuckle. Sky-blue eyes versus emerald green eyes... a nice combination, really.

"They look nice." the American murmured.

"B-beg your pardon?" the Brit stuttered.

The American smiled. "Your eyes. I never saw a nice shade of green like yours."

"Oh... oh... oh, um..." The Brit turned his head away, gathering the remaining sheets. He took the others from the American's hands and stood back up. "Well, uh... off we go then."

The American nodded. "Sure." He let the quiet Brit lead the way and followed him to the elevator.

Arthur reached the elevator first and press the down arrow button. He had his back turned to his coworker, facing the door and trying to avoid Alfred from staring at his flushed face. He knew Alfred was watching him, and he knew his face was boiling red. So he just continued cornering the elevator, his nose barely touching the chrome color doors. Why hadn't the doors opened yet?

_Hurry the fuck up, you stupid-_

_-ding-_

"Whoa!" a young man in the elevator cried, nearly crashing into the startled Brit.

"Oh, my," the Brit cried as well, blinking. "I beg your pardon, um. I..." Arthur tensed when he felt a warm hand placed on his shoulder. He was gently being pulled back toward the warmth of someone's body. That someone was Alfred. The Brit turned his shoulder slightly. "U-um... what..."

"He's gotta big box." Alfred explained, pointing at the short light blond man inside the elevator.

The short man turned out to be a delivery person, carrying an over-sized box with a tow. He looked like he stood about 5'5 and the box was taller than he. The young delivery man nodded a thanks and rolled the box out the elevator. The small man panted and placed the tow down to rest for a bit. He turned to the two men. "Um," he began, "would any of you happen to be a Mr. Yao Wang?"

The Brit blinked at the dense man's question.

_Do we look like a Yao Wang? Are you bloody kidding me...?_

"Actually," the American answered, pointing to the right, "if you go to your left and go down four aisles, make a right, and he should be located in the third cubicle to the left. He's got long black hair with a ponytail." The American then chuckled, adding, "...and he looks Chinese."

The young man blushed a bit, blinking his huge, brown eyes. "Oh... right," he chuckled, rubbing the back on his head. "Thanks a lot!"

"Sure thing, sir." The American nodded with a grin.

The young man stood in place, staring at the two taller men. He then looked down at the floor, looking the same way Arthur did earlier. "Um..." he began shyly.

Arthur frowned, trying to figure out what was this kid's deal.

"Is there anything else?" Alfred asked him.

"Uh... w-well..." the young delivery man stuttered, looking bashful. "I was wondering if there was a Mr... Ox.... Oxen..."

"Oxenstierna?" the American corrected him, pronouncing it perfectly. "Yeah, he works here."

"Oh... R-really?"

The Brit blinked, seeing the young man's face turning the same shade of red as his.

"Yeah." The American then pointed to his left. "Now, if you go to your right, go down two aisles an-"

The delivery man held up his hands, sightly waving them. "U-uh! Actually... that's alright. I gotta give this package to Mr. Wang... t-thanks again." The short man quickly took the tow and rolled the box the wrong way.

Alfred grinned. "Your left," he said.

"Right, right... I mean, left..." The embarrassed man made a u-turn and walked past the two taller blonds. Well, that was their highlight of the afternoon. The Brit walked back over to the elevator and pressed the button. He looked down at the floor, waiting for the doors to slide open. He could feel Alfred watching his back again. The Brit's blush returned.

_Why did they only make one bloody elevator?_

_-ding-_

The Brit quickly rushed inside. The American followed right behind. The quiet Brit turned to the front, his eyes focusing on the floor. Alfred was standing beside him, only a few feet away. The doors slowly closed. Arthur grew more nervous, realizing they were the only two inside.

_Oh God... why am I getting a shortness of breath? I think I'm going to pass out..._

"Arthur..."

The Brit jumped slightly and turned to the concerned American. "Oh! Yes? Yes?"

Alfred lifted a brow before pointing at the controls to the elevator. "You didn't press anything yet."

Arthur turned to the controls and chuckled nervously. "Oh... the... the, ah..." He turned back to Alfred and chuckled again. "Right, right! The button... heh... how stupid of me!" Arthur reached over and pressed the letter 'G' button. He stood tall again and turned back to the interesting floor with his hands in his pants pocket. They both stood quiet, listening to the loud humming sound of the elevator. Arthur cleared his throat slightly. The Brit looked from the corner of his eye, watching the American checking his watch then staring up at the floor numbers. Arthur turned his eyes away from him and looked back down. "So..." he spoke to the taller blond, "w-where did you want to go... for lunch?"

Alfred hummed in thought. "Hm... what's the deli place you usually go to?"

"Deli's Delight you mean?" The Brit glanced at his coworker from the corner of his eyes and looked away once more. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," the American answered. "I've never been there."

"They... don't serve hamburgers there, you know."

"I don't mind," Alfred chuckled and turned to the Brit. "I eat more than those, you know."

The Brit continued looking down at the floor. He was too shy, nervous, and afraid to look up at the American. His throat was dry, and his palms were sweaty. The elevator ride was taking a bit longer than usual. Arthur heaved a shaky sigh. He tensed a bit when he saw the American moved slightly, but his coworker was only putting weight on his other leg. Arthur tried calming himself. He was feeling rather stupid. He was starting to feel like...

_A schoolgirl... I feel like a bloody schoolgirl asking a crush to be my bloody boyfriend. Meanwhile, I've been having sex with him for the past week, and now I'm going all shy and klutzy! The fuck is wrong with me?_

"...Arthur?"

"YES?" The Brit cried out too loudly, making his coworker's eyes widened by surprise. "I-I mean... yes?" He repeated calmly.

"Are you feeling okay?" Alfred asked looking concern. "Do you wanna skip lunch?"

"No, no, no..." Arthur answered, quickly shaking his head and looking down. "Not at all."

"Or would you... prefer having lunch by yourself, and I'll eat somewhere else?"

Arthur quickly shook his head again and frowned. "No, git. I'm not... that cruel."

"Why won't you look at me, Arthur?"

The Brit let out a nervous laugh. "What do you mean?" he asked his coworker, still looking down at the floor. "You're being silly."

"Arthur..." The American placed a hand underneath the Brit's chin. Arthur grew tense, as he felt his head being tipped upward and looking dead into Alfred's blue narrowed eyes. "...I'm up here."

Arthur's heart was pounding so hard, and he was sure his coworker could feel it. "I-I know that..." came another nervous chuckle from the Brit. "What? You think I'm stupid?"

"No. I think you're scared shitless of me, and I want to know why."

Arthur turned his eyes away from the taller blond, trying to come up with a good explanation of why he was acting weird.

"Arthur," the American said his coworkers name a little louder.

The Brit winced slightly, feeling Alfred squeezing his chin tighter and having him turned his green eyes immediately back at the determined blue ones.

"What's the matter?" the American asked gently.

"I..."

_-ding-_

The Brit turned his eyes to the parted doors. He saw two people from afar heading their way. He was a little relieved they were finally at the bottom floor, but his American coworker still got a good hold of his chin. Arthur blushed then he turned back to the American. "People are outside..." he told the taller blond nervously.

"I don't care." Alfred replied with a frown. "Just tell me what's going on."

"T-there's nothing going on," the Brit answered, pulling away from Alfred's hold. "Let's just go to the deli, alright?"

"Hey," a person from outside the garage yelled out, "hold that elevator, will ya?"

Arthur turned away from the American and stepped out of the elevator. A warm hand was then suddenly placed on Arthur's shoulder, making him jump. "Ah!" The Brit frowned as he turned to the American. "The bloody hell ar- AH!" Arthur yelped as he was being yanked back inside. The Brit blinked as he watched Alfred reached over and pressed the 'close door' button.

"H-hey! Hold the door! Please?" The Brit heard the person from outside yelling out again.

Once the doors were completely closed, the Brit was forced against the wall. Arthur hissed from the hard force. "Wha... ARE YOU MA..." The angry Brit halted his outburst when he looked up and saw his coworker looking twice as furious as he. "Ah... A-Alfred...?" The Brit felt the elevator moving upward.

"Arthur... it's been really hard for me to keep a smile on this face because I'm having a shitty day today," Alfred began before reaching over and pressing the emergency stop button, "and I rather not have **any **of my personal lives involving around my job... and that includes us. Because I'll understand if you're not looking for anything serious between us... but if there's something on your mind, you better say it now, Arthur."

Arthur just trembled slightly, staring at his angry coworker who had him cornered against the wall. The bar rail was pressed uncomfortably against his lower back. He felt like crying... was it from the tone in Alfred voice, or was he **really **scared shitless of this man? Arthur opened his mouth, but he was too scared to speak.

"Do you want us to stop sleeping around, Arthur? Yes or no?" the angry American spoked again. "It's a simple question."

The Brit looked down again.

_I'm not looking for anything serious between us. At least... I don't bloody think so. But what is this feeling when he's near me? Maybe I really do care for him... as a friend. Could that be it? Or..._

"Arthur, just say it," the American said, making the Brit snap out of it.

Arthur looked up at him again, then looked back down at the floor. "I suppose I'm... I'm fucking worried about you, alright...?" _Was that really it_, the Brit wondered.

The American's frowned disappeared and he blinked. "What?"

The Brit frowned sadly, eyes still glued to the floor. "You actually had me worried about you since last night. You didn't jump me when we were in bed, when I took a shower... you didn't even tease me this morning before leaving the apartment. I'm not used to seeing you like that... especially like this."

The American just stayed quiet and listened.

"I thought I could... cheer you up tonight with my cooking..." Arthur glanced at the American while adding, "W... we can still have sex, yes, b-but just stop being sad like last night and this morning at your cubicle..."

The American blinked. "?"

Arthur bit his bottom lip, realizing what he said. Shyly, he looked back down again. "I... saw you looking upset at your cubicle after you got off the phone with... I assume some angry customer... I didn't mean to spy. I was going to get your attention so I could thank you for breakfast, is all."

"Arthur..."

The Brit turned to his coworker and sighed. "Look, you don't have to tell me your personal life, but try not to act this way in front of me... creeps the fuck out of me." Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded slightly. "And if... you need a shoulder... I guess you can borrow mine... for a little while."

The American blinked more then broke into a smile. "You really mean that?"

The Brit folded his arms and turned his head to the side while blushing. "I suppose... just don't make a habit out of it."

"You really do like me!" Alfred grinned, getting ready to give him a hug.

"Hey! Don't get too excited!" the Brit cried, trying to push the American off him. "Let's go to lunch."

"But I need to borrow your shoulder." Alfred teased the blushing Brit before leaning forward, giving him a chaste kiss.

Arthur pulled away from the kiss and glared up at him. "Start the elevator, git," he ordered the American. Alfred only grinned and leaned forward, giving his coworker another kiss, a longer one. Arthur pulled away again. "Wha- It's not like I said we should get eloped or bloody anything! Start the fucking elevator!"

Alfred grinned still, looking into Arthur's eyes. The American then trailed his eyes downward and looked back at his coworker. His grin turned into an evil smirk with a glint in his eye.

Arthur blinked. Then his eyes widened and blushed deeper. "No."

Alfred nodded.

"We are not... Alfred, no!" Arthur demanded a little louder. Arthur was pinned back against the wall. He winced. "Watch the fucking bar rail!"

"I'm sad, Arthur," the American teased again, hooking a finger around Arthur's neck tie and pulled it down unfastened. "Make me happy."

"**You'd** make me happy if you fucking pull that dick of yours away from my stomach!" the Brit cried out, thrashing wildly and making the elevator move slightly.

"Just a quick one." Alfred lifted his knee and began brushing it between his coworker's legs.

"C-cut it out, wanker..." the Brit hissed from the contact.

Alfred smirked, feeling a nice lump against his knee. "You beat me," he teased.

Arthur grunted and blushed more. "You fucking arse-AH... don't."

"Stop resisting and just go with it, Arthur." Alfred reached down and unbuckled the panting man's belt. "We still have time for lunch."

"No, Alfred." Arthur just stood still, panting, and letting the cocky American do what he wanted. "We can't..."

Alfred unfastened the Brit's pants. "We can," he replied.

Arthur arched his neck back, his head bumping against the wall. "No... we can't," he panted.

"Yes..." Alfred murmured before trailing a tongue up to the Brit's neck then pulled away slightly, "...we can," he finished before gently nibbling the neck and sucking it.

The panting Brit wrapped his arms around the American's neck. "No, we can't," he breathed.

The smirking American reached down unfastening the smaller blond's pants. "Yes, we can." (*)

"No..." the Brit breathed feeling his pants and undies hit the floor. "No... we..." Arthur sucked in his breath, feeling his length grasped firmly. "No...." Arthur swallowed before he hesitantly looked up, seeing his partner looking back with lust, wanting, needing, and desperation his eyes. How irresistible he looked to the Brit. How could he say no to him? "Alfred... no."

"..." The American continued staring at the smaller blond and slowly proceeded to move his hand.

The smaller blond's body jolted, making him hit his head against the wall once again. "N... no... no..." he chanted over while his hips were moving against the warm hand. "No... no... ah... no...!

**00000000**

"Yes... yes... yes... fuck... yes!" cried out the smaller blond, the side of his face uncomfortably pressed against the cold chrome penetration he was receiving from behind was making the contact worse, but he didn't care. He grasped the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white. With every forceful movement the coworkers made, they felt the elevator sway slightly, and the steel ropes that were keeping the moving contraption in place would groan occasionally. The Brit would often get nervous hearing the sound, but he grew used to it. The two had been "trapped" in the elevator for eighteen minutes, and they were surprised no one called the repair men to see what the problem was yet. It was getting hotter in the small box from their heavy breathing. Even the chrome walls were fogged. Both were drenched in their sweat.

"Stroke yourself," the American requested.

The Brit refused even though he was desperate to blow at any second. "I... have n-nothing to clean it... with..." The Brit felt the American paused from his thrust and leaned forward. Alfred's weight was resting against the Brit's back. Arthur shivered, feeling warm hands trailed up his exposed chest while his left ear was being nibbled on.

"We can always leave it and blame it on Francis." Alfred smirked before slipping his tongue inside the Brit's earlobe.

The Brit gasped and grinned a bit. "Can w-we... really?"

Alfred pushed his weight off the Brit and began grinding his hips against Arthur's once more. "That wouldn't be the Freedom Unit way, now would it?"

The Brit rolled his eyes before closing them and grunting out from the thrust. "One... can only d-dream..." The Brit knew they were in here long enough. God, he didn't want it to end yet, but sometimes the fun had to end once in a while. The Brit placed a hand on the damp wall. "Nhh... fucking do... do that thing you... you'd... nhh!"

The Brit's partner behind him panted and looked up in mid-thrust. "Ah... wha?" he breathed.

Arthur turned to the man, cheeks flushed and his right side of his face slightly bruised. "Those... fuck.. Ah... those fast pace thrust you fucking do..." he panted. "We better finish."

"Oh, that," Alfred grinned before placing both hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Hold tight."

"Wait, I need t-OW!" When the Brit's partner made his first three quick thrusts, Arthur's forehead made contact with the wall twice, leaving a nice forehead print from the sweat.

The American stopped his movement and snickered when he heard the two loud bumps.

Arthur growled and turned back at the laughing man. "Wait a bloody minute will you?" he bellowed.

"I am so sorry," Alfred laughed uncontrollably. "Are you okay?"

The Brit just stared at him waiting for his laughter to die down. His frown faded and just stared at him. It was a nice laugh, he thought. Even though he was annoying and a pain, and even though he hated to admit it... **this **was the Alfred Arhtur wanted to see. The Brit blushed and turned back to the wall. "That's more like it..." he murmured.

The taller blond's laughter stopped. "More like what?" he heard the man asked from behind.

Arthur smiled secretly, thankful that the chrome walls didn't make out good reflections. "Your smile. Keep it that way next time."It was very quiet except for their breathing. The Brit blinked a few times staring at the chrome wall, waiting for a reply.

"It's a deal."

The Brit turned to his shoulder and nodded. "Jolly good... now can we please continue without bashing my head in?"

The American chuckled, running a hand across Arthur's butt cheek. "Are you ready this time?"

The Brit placed his hands against the wall. "Fire away..." he breathed then cried out, getting pounded on repeatedly.

**00000000**

The Japanese man Kiku was standing outside the parking garage with Heracles and blinked several times to see two of their coworkers coming out from the elevator. Clothes were slightly wrinkled, someone's tie was crooked, the buttons on someone's shirt were through the wrong holes, and hair was out of place.

"Alfred-san... Arthur-san..." Kiku said uneasy.

The American was the first to get out grinning a hello to them. "Where's your lunch?"

"We decided to eat it there," the Greek answered, looking like something was off about the two of them. "You two are just not leaving for lunch?"

"Yeah. We still got time though."

Arthur finally got out the elevator face flushed. "We are um... just going to the deli across the street," he joined in on the conversation.

The curious Japanese man was getting ready to speak, but the Greek placed a hand on his shoulder and escorted him to the elevator. "We won't hold you guys up then. Happy eating!" the grinning Greek told the blonds.

Alfred waved at them. "See you two later."

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Arthur exhaled, just realizing he held his breath in. "Bollocks..."

The American turned to the nervous Brit and grinned. "Take it easy. Even if they did put two and two together about us, I don't think they would care or tell anyone."

Arthur's face cringed with fear and shook his head. "No... not that..." he replied. "When we were dressing, and I didn't have time to slip my briefs back on, I thought I stuffed them in my pocket."

Alfred blinked, lifting a brow.

The Brit cringed more and walked over to the controls of the elevator doors pressing the button repeatedly. "...Fuck! I think they're still in the bloody elevator!" What was the use? Kiku and Heracles were probably already aware of the undergarments and whoever would be the next to discover them. The Brit couldn't believe they slipped from his pocket. After countless button pressing, the Brit kicked the door and swore again. "Why the fuck did I do that? Ah..." He turned and leaned his back against the elevator door angrily. "Fuck!" Suddenly, the Brit heard a small chuckle. He looked up at his coworker. Alfred had his arms folded and his lips were quivering as if he was going to laugh out any moment. The Brit frowned. "If you're going to laugh it up, wanker, go ahead and laugh. But if I get fired for this, I'm taking you with me! If you haven't decided to..." Just as the Brit was going to carry on, he paused to see the American lifting up something white before his eyes. The Brit blushed and quickly rushed over to his coworker, snatching the white material from his hand. "You... you fucking..." he hissed slipping the underwear into his pocket.

"I picked them up when they slipped from your pocket." Alfred explained before laughing.

"Don't scare me like that you fucking git!" Arthur cried as he pounded a fist on Alfred's arm.

The American continued laughing while rubbing his arm. "Sorry. I was just trying to keep my smile like you asked me too."

Arthur's frown faded and stared at the smiling git. Yep, the wanker was finally back to normal. Giving in, the Brit sighed and shrugged. "Fine, fine... let's go already." The Brit started walking, but the American caught up with him and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Wait."

Arthur turned to the American. "What?"

Alfred looked down at his partner with another smirk on his face. "Can I keep that as a souvenir?"

The Brit gave the laughing American another punch to the arm. "Piss off!" Arthur growled before storming off. He could still hear Alfred laughing, following behind him. The Brit fumed with his arms folded.

_I'm never cheering this arsehole up again!_

* * *

_**Now ya see? There was slight sex in it! 8D Lol poor Arthur regretted cheering up his BFFF! Silly billy. I hope this chapter was okay. I'm just happy it didn't take as long as the last one. Let's see how long the next one will take... I'm still juggling over youtube projects as well as coming up with cosplay ideas and finally having a little job. Busy busy busy busy busy! =3= see ya in the next chapter!**_

_**~See the stars~**_

_The panting Brit wrapped his arms around the American's neck. "No, we can't," he breathed._

_The smirking American reached down, unfastening the smaller blond's pants. "Yes, we can."__**(okay, was anybody thinking Obama when reading that part? Lol I pray he can help us with this mess we're in and change hope for all of us... this is a fucked up world, ya'll...)**_

_**Be safe!**_

_**-Hoggy**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**The Author's losing it**__**ཀ**__**: **__I hope not lol. I feel like I'm running out of ideas on how I want my chapters to end. I mean, I __**know**__ how I want it to end, but I can't get it out. Pfff... 'get it out.' Gutter mind. I dun think this chapter will be any good, so I apologize if this fanfic is starting to suck now. XD But I totally appreciate you all being patient with me. :D HUGE thanks to __**Miss Macabre Grey**__ for proofreading this chapter... well, actually... I uploaded this chapter __**BEFORE **__I sent it to her, so she hasn't started yet, so if there are errors along the way, then that means I haven't edited the mistakes yet! HAHA!_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (You still haven't call me, Hide-chan**__**ཀ **__**Here's my number again just in case: 662-31... *advertising ad fades in*)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 12)~**

**00000000**

"_Okay, ya'll! While the skillet is heatin' up, use a non stick cooking spray! I also like adding sugar in it to give it a sweet taste! HAHA!"_

Arthur lifted one of his thick eyebrows at the overweighted woman on television. The heavy chef with a thick southern accent was going step by step on how to make the _perfect _hamburger. The Brit was flipping through the channels earlier, and he came across the food channel by luck. Even though he was confident that this would be a synch, he wanted to be sure his burgers were "perfect" as the chef on TV kept claiming. Arthur turned back to the screen while he was mixing the raw meat with his bare hands, combining the seasonings and egg yoke together. This felt gross to Arthur, like touching guts. He wasn't sure what guts felt like, but he was sure it was like this. Suddenly, the Brit's nose started tingling from the strong seasoning. "Oh... b...bugger," he murmured before turning his head away from the mixing bowl and sneezed loudly. Maybe he used too much pepper. He didn't have time to start over. Alfred was suppose to be there in an hour.

"_Okey-dokey!" _the overweighted chef continued while over seasoning the patties with garlic salt, _"now, let's season up the ground beef! You can use whatever seasoning you wanna put in it! You can use your favorite seasonings like salt or pepper... or maybe some... some lemon pepper," _the chef sprinkled a good amount of salt (quite a bit) while talking.... _"...and tabasco sauce, chopped veggies, or Greek seasoning-Ooh! I just love Greek seasoning!" _She pulled out a small brown bottle and a clear bowl with sugar in it. _"...but I just __**love**__ addin' vanilla extract and sugar to give it that sweet taste!"_

After the Brit's third sneeze, he turned back to his mixed meat and started shaping them into patties. He made one for himself and four for his date... no, his coworker. He was certain four would be enough. He actually witnessed the git inhaling several hamburgers before. Arthur made a face, remembering Alfred devouring them while talking. The Brit swore at him, telling him to stop talking with his mouth full. The last thing he needed was chewed food particles flying in his tea cup. Arthur sighed before placing the last patty on the cookie sheet. He turned the nob on the stove, adjusting the temperature of the skillet. He had two patties on either hand and carefully placed them on the hot skillet. The patties immediately sizzled, cooking on contact. It actually smelled delicious. _Too easy_, the Brit thought. These burgers were going to be perfect for his date... his coworker. Yes. Coworker. Arthur's cheeks were reddening as he pressed a patty down with a spatula.

_It's just a get together... just two coworkers hanging out. Not a date... _

"_Okay, ya'll! You're almost done! Each side of the patty will take at least six minutes to cook!" _the woman said excitedly on TV. "_Now wether you like 'em rare, medium, or well done, either one will be PERFECT! Now if you want an even sweeter flavor to them like I do..." _

Arthur rolled his eyes at the woman, wishing she could see his annoyed expression. "Let me guess," he said to the TV, "bloody sugar?"

"_...I like smothering it with peanut butter!"(*)_ the huge lady answered the Brit's question followed by a huge cackle and a snort.

Arthur's eye twitched. "Jesus..."

Several flipping patties and two attempts of frying french fries without burning them later, dinner was ready. And it was just in time too. After the table was set, there was a knock at the Brit's door. Arthur's heart fluttered and he grew nervous. "Um... j-just a moment," he called out to the door. He had to stay calm. It wasn't a date. They were just going to eat some burgers, watch a little television... and maybe... if they wanted to, do the yum-yum bouncy-bouncy later. He rolled the sleeves of his green cotton shirt back down and hurried over to the door. Along the way he was brushing back his hair to make sure it was okay. He paused at what he was doing. Frowning, he ruffled his hair back to where it was. He paused again and smoothed his hair back down. Another knock at the door got the indecisive man's attention. Arthur shook his head and blushed. _The fuck am I doing? _he thought. He ignored his hair and finally answered the door. Arthur's heart fluttering increased once he saw the American standing outside with a warm smile.

"Hey," he greeted the Brit in a gentle tone.

"Um... h-hello," Arthur greeted him back before clearing his throat. He took a good look at his coworker. The American was well dressed with his casual black turtle neck sweater, blue jeans, and his black canvas shoes. Arthur was going to complement his look, but kept quiet. He continued to stare at the man.

"Hey, can I, uh..." the grinning American spoked, "come in? I know I have on this coat, but I'm still kinda cold."

"Oh!" the Brit cried and stepped to the side letting him in. "Yes, um... please, please."Alfred walked inside as he slipped off his brown jacket. Arthur walked over to him and took it. "I'll just hang it for you," he told the American.

"Thanks," Alfred said with a smile. "Be careful with it, though. It's special to me."

Arthur blushed as his coworker gave him a soft wink. He shyly told the American to make himself at home before he walked down the hallway. Arthur went to his bedroom and took the coat to his closet. He looked down at the coat. It was still warm. The hint of his coworker's cologne was hitting his nostrils. Soothing and comforting. He placed the leather coat to his nose, taking it all in. Why did he enjoy inhaling the man's clothes? He was doing this quite often now. He still had two of Alfred's shirts he borrowed. He still didn't wash them because he didn't want to wash off the taller man's scent. The Brit inhaled the coat once more. _What bliss_, he thought.

"What are you doing up there?" the Brit heard the git call out up front "Putting my coat in a vault?"

Arthur frowned. He pulled the coat away from his face and began to hang it up. "No, wanker. I'm actually ripping it to shreds," he answered. "Sit down and eat."

"Join me!"

Arthur sighed and walked back up front. He saw Alfred still standing, admiring the food on the table. He looked as if he was going to devour everything insight. "Eat if you're hungry," he told the American.

Alfred looked up at him with a warm smile. "Join me," he said to the Brit again.

"Oh, bugger," Arthur rolled his eyes and joined his coworker at the table. He grabbed two plates and handed his guest one. "Eat as much as you want."

"It all looks great!" Alfred beamed happily, helping himself with two burger patties and fries. "I bet they taste awesome!"

Arthur was praying in his head, hoping he was right. "Um... there's also soda in the fridge," he murmured, getting ready to walk over to the refrigerator to fetch it.

"I got it," the American said, beating him to the fridge. "Sit and eat."

"But," Arthur stammered then frowned. "You're the guest."

Alfred opened the door and pulled out two bottles. "Stop being so formal," he said while handing the Brit a soda. "This is just a hang out with just you and me right? There's no need to treat me like I'm the Duke of Denmark."

Arthur blushed, taking the bottle from the smiling American. His heart fluttered again feeling his fingers brushing against Alfred's. "Sorry," the Brit murmured shyly.

Alfred grinned, shaking his head. "Cut it out. I'm not used to seeing _you _like this."

Arthur blinked and turned to Alfred. "Seeing me like what?" he asked the taller blond.

"Shy, bashful, and looking like a schoolgirl getting ready to ask her crush out." (*) Arthur's face turned boiling red and he glared at the git. Did he really look that noticeable? Then he heard the American add, "You're still cute though."

Embarrassed, Arthur turned away from Alfred and fixed his plate. "Eat or I'll shove these patty meats down your blasted throat," he grumbled.

"Go ahead."

Arthur turned back at Alfred who was now chuckling, a fist placed to his lips to keep from laughing out. "You fucking-"

"That's better," the American interrupted.

"Wha... what the hell are you..." Arthur paused, realizing what the American was doing. He sighed and placed a hand on his hip. He broke into a small smile. "You fucking git," he told the taller man.

Alfred smiled back. "Let's eat. I'm starved."

**00000000**

Both blonds ate quietly at the table. The Brit would look up a few times to see if the American was enjoying his "perfect" burgers. When he took his first bite, he thought they were decent... maybe not the best, but decent. He looked back up at Alfred while he nibbled on a french fry. "How... are they?" he asked Alfred.

Alfred looked up from his plate with a huge smile on his face. "I wished you made more," he answered.

Arthur blinked and looked over at the plate where he had the cooked patties. Gone. They were all gone already. The Brit's mouth was open agape and made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. He looked back up at his coworker. "Are you... actually still hungry?" he asked him uneasily.

Alfred chuckled. "No, no. I'm good. They were really great! Thanks!"

"Oh... don't mention it," the Brit answered, blushing and looking down at his half-eaten was happy and pleased that Alfred liked his cooking... the burgers, anyway. "I'm glad you enjoyed them."

_Thank god. I didn't screw up. _

"How 'bout coming over to my place next Friday?" Alfred asked before wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'll cook something for you. Anything you want."

"Oh... sure." Of course the Brit was going to be there. If Alfred made wonderful breakfast, his dinner was sure to be twice as amazing. The Brit wondered what type of dish the American would make.

"Do you have anything in mind?"

Arthur looked up from the question. He didn't know he zoned out. "Not really," the Brit answered, holding a fry with his thumb and index finger. He used the potato to poke at the other fries. "Just surprise me."

Alfred nodded and smiled. "Will do. I know what to make already."

Arthur stood from his chair and gathered his unfinished plate. He looked up and saw Alfred pointing at his half-eaten hamburger.

"You're not gonna finish that?" he asked the Brit, sounding shocked.

"Do you want it?" Arthur asked.

The American's eyes lit up, and he nodded. Arthur rolled his eyes and walked over to the excited man. He placed the burger on his plate.

"Thanks," Alfred said and took down the cold burger without even a fight. Arthur shook his head and gathered the other dishes. His coworker had eaten four and a half hamburgers. Again, where did they all go? The Brit muttered something about they were going to go straight to the git's thighs and walked over to the sink. He ran some hot water, dish washing soap, and began washing.

"I'll help," he heard the American say.

"Sit and eat," he told the burger lover. "There aren't that many to wash."

"Let me wash my plate at least."

The Brit heard footsteps approaching him from behind. The American stood next to him with an empty plate at hand."I have it under control," Arthur said, taking the American's plate and shooing him away. "Sit and watch television." The American shrugged and walked away. The Brit watched the man walk back to the living room, plopped on his couch, and began flipping through the channels. Arthur turned back to the dishes and sighed with relief. This turned out to be a good night so far. The Brit was satisfied his coworker was having a good time. Just getting away from the stress of work and whatever other personal things he was dealing with was what Alfred needed. Arthur was proud of his accomplished work. Just when he was about to wash the next plate he felt something warm against his back, arms wrapped around his waist, and that soothing cologne hitting his nostrils again. Arthur put the dish back in the water and sighed. "I'm not finished," Arthur said.

"Take your time," the American said gently, pulling the smaller blond in a tight embrace. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"It's hard not to when your burger breath is breathing down my neck." Arthur placed his dripping wet hands on Alfred's dry ones, trying to break free from his strong hold. "Bugger off."

"Sit and watch TV with me," the hardheaded American begged before kissing his ear.

Arthur shivered from the warm pair of lips against his skin. "Let me clean the kitchen first."

"Are washing these few dishes just an excuse to keep from sitting with me?" the American asked with a chuckle. Arthur frowned. Damn he was good. "We'll wash them later."

"I would like to bloody wash them now," the Brit grumbled, trying to push him back with his elbow. No avail, of course. "You are so persistent." Arthur blushed and growled in the back of his throat when he felt Alfred hold him tighter and placed his cheek against his.

"It's the weekend," Alfred told his annoyed coworker. "I just want us to get away from work for a while. Besides, you're supposed to be treating me to a good time."

"A good time, huh?" Arthur reached over and scooped some suds with his hand. "How's this for a good time?" He took the suds and smeared it on Alfred's face, getting his glasses and all. He felt his coworker pulling away. Arthur turned to see his sudsy face coworkerbacking away a bit. The Brit smirked, folding his arms in triumph. "Now will you sit your arse back on the couch?" He watched the quiet American slipping off his glasses and placed them on the counter. The next thing that happened nearly made the Brit have a sudden bowel movement.

Alfred turned to the smaller blond and gave him a glare so hard and so life threatening, it left Arthur paralyzed.

_Oh, bugger... that git's going to kill me. _

Arthur turned a heel, getting ready to high tail it out of there, but the American caught up with him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist from behind. "Oh god! Alfred!" he cried. "I-I'm sorry! I was only joking, I was!" The nervous Brit felt himself being raised off the floor and carried back over to the sink. "The bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur thrashed around, trying to break free from Alfred's hold. He saw the American's free arm reaching out and scooped some suds from the sink. "No... no, no, no, no, no! Don't you fucking dare!" The Brit tried turning his head away as the suds drew closer. He grunted out when he felt the wet foamy substance hit his face. Arthur growled and wiped the mess off with his shirt sleeve, but he was covered with even more suds. "Quit it!" the Brit cried. He heard the American laughing from behind.

"Wait, let me make a beard," he told Arthur while scooping up more suds.

Arthur broke free from his hold, grabbed up some suds, and backed away. He had foam in one hand and holding out his other hand in defense. "Get away from me, wanker," he warned the taller blond.

Alfred stared at him, armed with his suds. "Well," he began with a smirk, "this looks like a draw, sheriff."

Arthur rushed back over to the sink and scooped more suds with his other hand. He faced the American with both his weapons. "Now, this is a fair fight," the Brit said with an even bigger smirk.

"No..." Alfred went over to the sink once again and dipped his free hand in the water. Without giving the Brit a chance to brace himself, he scooped some water and splashed it on the smaller blond.

"The fuc-" Arthur cried as he stumbled backwards when the water hit his face. He flicked the suds off his hands and rubbed his damp eyes. He looked down, seeing his green shirt and pants were wet. There was a small puddle on the floor. This time it was the Brit's turn to glare at his grinning guest.

"_Now_, it's a fair fight," Alfred said.

"You _fucking... _git!" the Brit cried, shocked at what his coworker did to him. "You've gone and done it now, Jones!"

"Uh-oh," Alfred teased. "The British are coming!"

"Oh, that does it, you brute!" Arthur walked over to the sink, nearly slipping on the wet floor and dipped his hand in the water. At the same time Alfred dipped his hand and was the first to attack him. The Brit cried out by surprised and splashed water back at him. As the Brit continued splashing at him, Alfred turned on the faucet and grabbed the hose. He aimed and pressed down the handle. "NO! DAMMIT, ALFRED!" the Brit cried, holding out his hands to block the hose. Alfred, totally drenched now, only laughed and continued spraying. The Brit went from swearing to yelling. And he went from yelling to laughing. Their laughter could be heard all across the apartment. They were soaked, and the kitchen floor was an even bigger mess than before.

The American turned off the hose and admired his work. The Brit was dripping wet. The green shirt looked like a darker color from the dampness, and the front part of his pants was almost as if he wet himself. Alfred laughed out louder when he saw it. "Oh my god!" the American cackled, pointing at the Brit's pants.

Arthur continued laughing and looked down at himself. "You are fucking insane," he told the American. "I am absolutely drenched."

"Don't forget about me," Alfred replied, laughing still. He looked around the kitchen. "Man, we really made a mess in here, huh?"

"_We_?" Arthur snorted and pressed his index finger on Alfred's chest hard. "_You're_ the one who started this! So _you're_ going to have to clean."

Alfred chuckled and held up his hands in defense. "Alright, alright. You got me."

"Good." Alfred and Arthur stared at each other. Seconds later they broke into another laugh. This really turned out nicely to the Brit. Messy, but nice. Arthur's laughter died down and he turned to his coworker. _He looks like a dork_, the Brit thought. Alfred's bangs were so wet, they stuck to his forehead. Arthur liked the way his damp face shined from the kitchen light. The cologne he was wearing had weakened from the water, but the Brit could still smell it faintly. And his smile seemed to brighten the room more. A very dorky... remarkable man. Arthur continued staring. This man... Alfred. The Brit heard the man say something, but he didn't answer him. Instead, he moved closer to him. Before the American had a chance to say something again, Arthur pressed his lips against his. The smaller blond sighed and wrapped his arms around his neck. He felt his coworker wrapping his arms around his waist and kissed him back. The Brit pulled back and looked up at him. The taller blond stared in return, brushing a thumb up and down against the small of his back in a gentle gesture. Arthur slowly closed his eyes and captured his lips again.

_What am I doing? What the hell is wrong with me? _

Arthur pulled away and stared at Alfred once more.

Alfred blinked a few times and exhaled as if his breath was taken away. "Well, now," the American breathed, added with a chuckle. "Is this dessert?"

The Brit blushed and pulled all the way from their hold. He turned his back to him and rubbed the back of his neck. "I still have your shirts here," the Brit murmured.

"Arthur?"

"I'll see if I can find some slacks that can fit you." Arthur walked out the kitchen. He nearly slipped once again on his way out.

"Hold on," the American said behind him. Arthur kept walking until a hand was placed on his shoulder. "Arthur!" The Brit still had his back turned from him. What was going on with him? Why was he feeling uncomfortable now? "Arthur, look at me." The Brit couldn't. He grew afraid. Why?

_What's wrong with me? What am I doing?_

The Brit was suddenly taken back when he was whirled around, facing the taller blond. The Brit immediately looked down at the floor just like this afternoon on the elevator. "Um..." Arthur stammered. "The clothes are-"

"I don't care about the clothes right now," the American interrupted placing both hands on Arthur's shoulders. "What is it _this _time? We were having a good time, you kissed me, and now you're freaking out again just like this afternoon."

The Brit chuckled. "I'm fine-"

"Look at me." Alfred gently grabbed the smaller blond's chin and raised his head. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

The Brit looked into Alfred's eyes that were filled with concern. The Brit turned his eyes away and frowned. "I don't know," he answered quietly. And it was the truth. The poor Brit had no clue what was wrong with him. That moment. That kiss. He didn't get any of it.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Alfred asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion and shaking his head slightly.

"I just don't, okay? Can we just drop the subject and take off these damn clothes?"

"Right after we kissed you panicked. I felt you tensing up. After all this time we've been sleeping together, why are you shying away now?"

Arthur broke free from Alfred's hold. "I am _not _shying away," the Brit argued. "I'm just not ready to get in bed, is all." The Brit could see the American folding his arms from the corner of his eye.

"I don't believe you," he told the smaller blond.

"What? That I'm not ready for you to screw me?"

"About not shying away."

"I told you I'm not!"

The American's eyes narrowed deeper. "Prove it," he told Arthur.

Arthur frowned. "Oh _this_ again," he murmured, rolling his eyes. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Fine," Alfred replied before clearing his throat. "What was that kiss about?"

"W-what?"

"That kiss just now? Was there a reason?"

"We fucking kiss all the damn time," the Brit answered, holding out his hands in an obvious gesture. "Does there have to be one, git?"

"For this one? Yes," the American answered. "Out of all the kisses we did, this one was different."

Arthur placed a hand to his forehead. His head was hurting. "Different in what way?" he asked.

"Passionately?" Alfred answered with a shrug. "It just felt _different_."

Arthur shook his head, chuckling angrily. "Passionate? Blimey! It was just a kiss!"

"One that freaked you out. Why?"

"Bloody hell!" the Brit cried, his hand reaching for his damp hair and yanking it slightly. "W... w-where are we going with this? Alfred, I'm wet and cold. Let's change clothes, clean the kitchen, and enjoy the rest of the evening. Alright?" The Brit turned back around and walked down the hallway.

"Do you love me?"

Alfred stopped in the middle of the hallway and stood still. His heart was fluttering again, his stomach knotted, and his throat felt sore. The Brit just stared off at his opened bedroom door. The light was still on inside. That was unlikely because he would always turn it off whenever he left the room. Why would anyone leave on something they're not using, right? "I b-beg your pardon?" came the question after finally realizing what was asked just moments ago. Of course, he heard correctly. He had to make sure.

"I said... do you love me?" asked the American.

Arthur chuckled nervously. "W-what do you mean?" he asked.

"Do you love me? Not as a coworker, nor a friend, but as a lover."

Arthur chuckled nervously the second time. "W-what do you mean?" came the question again.

"Do you want to have a serious relationship with me?" Alfred asked, not sounding annoyed by the Brit's dumb question.

A third nervous chuckle came. "What..." the Brit stammered, "what do y-" The Brit yelped suddenly, being whirled around by his coworker for the second time tonight. Arthur looked into Alfred's non bifocal eyes.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" the American asked in a gentler tone. "How else do you want me to say it, Arthur? Do you love me?"

The Brit's widen, green eyes just stared into Alfred's soft, blue ones. It was sudden. It was shocking. It was... The Brit then burst out laughing. "You're mad," he laughed. "Surely, you must be joking."

"I would never joke about something like this," the taller blond answered with a straight face. "Not love."

The Brit's laughter ceased. He blinked and looked into his eyes once again.

_Bollocks._

The Brit knew at that moment. This man was dead serious.

"Yes or no?" Alfred asked. "Do you love-"

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, _STOP_!" the Brit interrupted, backing away from him. "This is... utterly ridiculous! Why would you think that I've instantly fallen in love with you?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," Alfred answered. "Because of your weird behavior and-"

"My weird behavior?" Arthur cried.

"Arthur, wait. I didn't mean it like that. It's just-"

"_**My **_weird behavior?" the Brit cried louder. "Alright. Let's talk about _your _weird behavior, Mr. Jones! Inhaling countless hamburgers like you're in some fucking food competition. Talking while both eating and drinking. Bloody children's board games. Spazzing over getting a G.I. Joe action figure in the mail. Using your spit to clean your glasses-_need_ I go on, git?"

Alfred sighed and frowned. "Why are you getting so uptight?" he asked. "It's not like I said we should become terrorists. It was just a question."

"A stupid question, I might add," the Brit huffed. "Last time I remembered, you were going on about that we were just fuck friends."

"Because I figured you weren't looking for anything serious. There are a lot of people going around sleeping together that aren't in a relationship."

Arthur stared at his coworker, seeing that he was just as upset as he was. The Brit's eyes narrowed. Now, it was his turn to discover the truth. "What about you then?" he asked Alfred.

"What?"

"Do _you _love me?" Arthur thought he saw something in the American's eyes, but it vanished before he could notice.

"What if I do?" he asked the Brit.

Arthur snorted, flinging his arms in the air. "What's this, now? I thought it was just a fucking question. Do you, Alfred F. Jones, love me?"

Alfred shifted his weight on his leg and looked into the Brit's eyes. "Yes."

"Bullshit."

"Wha-" the taller blond cried. "I'm serious, Arthur."

"I don't believe you."

"Didn't I tell you that I never joke about stuff like this?"

"If it were true," Arthur said, "what are you doing messing around with someone who doesn't share the same feeling?"

"That kiss-"

"Doesn't mean anything!" Arthur turned back around, heading to his room. He was freezing now, and he didn't want this conversation to go any further.

"Bullshit."

The Brit turned back around frowning at the American. "Pardon me?"

"I don't believe _you_."

"Why aren't you letting this go?" the Brit cried.

"Why won't you believe that I love you? You felt something, Arthur. Something happened just now, and you're afraid to admit it. You love me."

"You have no idea what you are saying! You don't love me! And I don't love you! Besides the pleasure of fucking each other's brains out every blasted day, we have _nothing _in common!"

Alfred walked closer to the Brit. "I love you," he told Arthur.

"No, you don't," Arthur said, turning his back to his guest.

"I love you."

"Shut up!"

"I really... _honestly_ do love you, Arthur." Alfred continued walking to the smaller blond until he closed the gap between them. He gently placed his hands on the Brit's shoulders.

Arthur pulled away from the contact and shook his head frantically. "This is insane," the Brit murmured.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid! This just isn't right!"

"You mean two men loving each other isn't right?"

"I don't love you!" For the third time, Arthur was forced back around, facing Alfred.

"Answer the question," the American demanded. "Is it?"

"No... I mean, yes! I-I mean... I'm not even gay!"

"So it's normal for a straight guy to get fucked by one?"

"I... I don't... how the fuck should I know?" the Brit cried, throwing up his arms in frustration again. "This is all your fault! Why didn't you back out when I was drunk that night?"

Alfred turned his eyes away from the question. "It was just..." the American murmured, "something I couldn't pass up. I wanted you _so _bad that night. I admit it. I didn't even care that I was on bottom. I even asked you if you were okay with-"

"For god's sakes, man! I was fucking drunk! Most drunks do or say off the wall shit! If I were drunk right now and told you that I was in love with you that would have been the alcohol talking!"

"Well, I'm sober. And I'm telling you, Arthur, that I'm in love with you."

"Stop saying that, alright?" Arthur bellowed, shrugging the taller man's hands off his shoulders angrily. "Just stop it! This... all this... was a mistake. A _big_ mistake. I can't do this anymore... I'm sorry." The Brit could see disappointment in Alfred's eyes. This was not how the Brit wanted this night. Where was the fun and laughter? Where did the special night go? This was all happening so fast. If the Brit had known the American's feelings, he would have stop sleeping with him. It was one disaster leading to another. Arthur looked up when he heard the taller man chuckling. The Brit was baffled at the man's sudden expression. Alfred was smiling.

"Heh, you're probably right," the American said, slipping one hand into his damp pocket and using the other to scratch his nose with his thumb and index finger. "It was my mistake for thinking that one night meant something. I'm sorry for getting you involved."

The Brit only blinked, looking confused as ever. How can someone keep a smile on their face after being cussed and yelled at so many times? "Al-" the Brit tried speaking, but a noise cut him off. Music was heard faintly back up front. The Brit listened, knowing right away it was the melody of the _Star Spangle Banner _song. He watched as his guest turned and went up front. Arthur stayed put in the hallway. He then heard the music cut off and Alfred's voice was heard next.

"Hello?" he heard the American say cheerfully. "...Hey! What's up? ...yeah. ...actually, I don't have anything planned tonight. ...no, no-absolutely! That's perfect! I can come. ...tomorrow night too? Sure thing! ...great! I'll be there in forty-five minutes. ...thanks, Chamise."

_Chamise?_

The Brit heard car keys jingling. He looked up down the hallway, seeing his coworker heading toward the front door and slipping his glasses back on. He saw Alfred turned to him with that same smile. "Sorry," he said. "Something came up. I'll dry my clothes back at my apartment. Thanks for dinner again. See you at work Monday!" The American had let himself out, paying no mind to the shocked and appalled look on Arthur's face.

"Chamise...?" the Brit murmured.

* * *

**Alfred, you careless bastard... you forgot your coat! D8 I got uneasy writing this fic. I guess I kinda feel the same way Arthur was feeling when he heard Alfred talking to Chamise on the phone. Kinda almost similar to the situation I was in once. I'm sorry if this chapter kinda ticked you readers off. But there will be more chapters! :3**

**~(see dem starts)~**

**1)**_ "Let me guess," he said to the TV, "bloody sugar?"_

"_...I like smothering it with peanut butter!" _

**(When I was living in Savannah, GA, everybody's fave southern bell Paula Deen own a restaurant down there and... well, that's not the point. I heard from a friend in one cook show she did, she was making a holiday turkey or whatever, and she told me that Paula like literally smothered this bird with peanut butter... WTF. I think my friend was lying. Did she REALLY do that?)**

**2) **_Arthur blinked and looked up at Alfred. "Seeing me like what?" he asked the taller blond._

"_Shy, bashful, and looking like a schoolgirl getting ready to ask her crush out." _

**(Have you guys been doing your studies? If you have realized, that's the same thing Arthur said to himself in the last chapter!)**

**Hm, I thought I made a third star... ah, well. Thank you all again for taking the time to read the story and again for pointing out a few errors here and there. Grammar is not my thing if some of you know by now, but if someone wants to be my beta reader (cuz I'm scared to click the beat reader button) and doesn't mind painfully proofreading my future fanfics I'm working on, that'll be great!**

'**Til next time... stay posted for the next chapter... whenever that will be. **

**-Cry**


	13. Chapter 13

**Wow, author! Updated a little quicker than usual: **_Heh, yah! I came up with a strategy to write maybe like two pages a day for my chapters. Maybe this will work for me. I hope. Okay! Times to piss off the readers mor-I mean... time to... entertain the readers... yeah. That's it..._

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**__**(I'm not evil. Honest.)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 13)~**

**00000000**

He just needed one more. No, another one. The pledge of having only one beer a day was broken. Arthur was on his fifth shot of tequila tonight. The Brit asked the bartender to keep them coming, and he was chugging them all down.

The bald and built bartender with numerous tattoos and body piercings thought Arthur had enough. He was also getting sick of the drunk. "Arthur," he said with concern, "if you're trying your hardest to get wasted, I think you had plenty, man."

The drunk Brit sat his shot glass down hard and looked up at him. "Y' wanna know wut I think, Torch?" he slurry asked the man. "I think..." The Brit belched and continued. "I think... _**YOU**_ got plenty of tattoos an' body pierces, but I dun tell y' wut t' do! Oh wait... that's right... _you... _y're mah bartendah. Soooo..." Arthur took his index finger and pointed at who he thought was Torch, but ended up pointing at a wall filled with different name brand alcohols. "I'm tellin' _you_ to get me-" He belched again. "...get meh... another beer!"

"Alright, Arthur. Chill. Let me have someone drive you back to your house."

"I dun need no fuckin' cab! I _need_ a fuckin' Jack fuckin' Daniels... fucker." Arthur looked down at his empty shot glass, rubbing the back of his neck. He then snapped his head back up, yelling, "Fuck! Gimmie a fuckin' Bastard on tha Beach!"

The aggravated bartender had just about enough. He held up his hands and shook his head. "No way!" he said. "I'm not in the mood to call an ambulance tonight."

"Wut? You wan' more of mah money?" the drunk Brit asked, reaching into his pocket.

"I already have your credit card for your open tab-"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Arthur said, raising a hand up and shaking it while struggling to pull his wallet out with his other hand. "It's quite alrigh', sir! I hav' _**plenty**_!" The Brit turned back to his pocket. He fished out something that made a jingling noise. It was his car keys. He held them to his face and began jingling them. His vision was so blurry, he couldn't make out which key went to what. "Ha... 'ello there! Mah beauty! 'Ello!" The Brit placed the keys on the counter and went back rummaging through his pants pocket. Seconds later, he pulled out some lint. Arthur turned to Torch, holding it up. "Will t'is covah it?"

The bartender sighed. "Arthur."

"I'm jokin'! I'm jokin'!" The drunk snickered to himself and went back to his pocket. It wasn't long until his leather wallet was yanked out his khaki slacks, making Arthur falling back on his stool. He managed to hold on to the counter to catch himself. He held the wallet up happily. "'Ere we gooooo! MONEY! Fuckin', sweet money! M-O-N-E... E... E..." Arthur blinked and turned to Torch. "Oi, wut year is t'is?" he asked.

"O...kay..." Torch murmured, pulling out his cell phone. "Arthur... dude... I'm calling you a ride."

Suddenly, the Brit leaned his whole body over the counter, legs dangling, and grabbed the bartender's forearm. It was covered with so many tattoos the Brit couldn't see his skin. He couldn't see anything for that matter. Was it a tattoo of the grim reaper or a road killed opossum? "Hey, hey, hey!" he cried. "Didn't I fuckin' say ta not call meh a cab? I hav' ev'ry right tah be 'ere! Ya ink... infested..." A hiccup. "...prick hole..." Another hiccup.

Torch snatched his arm away from the Brit's grasp. "You better watch it, England," (*) he warned Arthur, pointing directly at his face.

The Brit snorted and smacked the man's tattooed hand away from his face before sitting back down. "Why ya even fuckin' care wut I fuckin' do?" he asked angrily. "This is mah night, mah munny, and mah fuckin' Bastard on the Beach as soon as I get one, dammit!"

Torch frowned, closing his cell phone. "Seriously, dude. If you think getting your ass drunk is gonna make it all go away, then guess what? It's all gonna crawl right back to ya with a major hangover tomorrow. Shit, man. Your friend Alfred never drank this heavy."

Arthur clenched his teeth together tightly when his coworker's name was mention. "Alfred," he hissed quietly through his teeth. He turned back to Torch. "Wut d'ya..." Another hiccup. "...what d' y' bloody know? Y' know nothin' 'bout me!"

"No, I don't. But whatever your problem is, it's not the end of the world. Now let me have one of the fellas take you home."

The Brit glared at the man and snorted. "Ohhh... Oh, I'm... I'm... so _dreadfully_ sorry, sir," he told him sarcastically. "You're one of those... psychologist wankers right?"

The bartender just stared at the Brit, looking rather annoyed and pissed.

"No? No, you're not? Right, so... so y' are... a _**bartender**_, who makes..." The Brit looked down at his fingers, counting them. He had trouble making his fingers fold out. He grunted and fanned his hand instead. "_**far**_ less than... _**any**_ successful shrink out there. You're rattlin' 'ur pocket change whilst they're bathin' in their Benjamin Franklins! 'Oi! Look at meh! I'm a FUCKIN' 'barchologist!' Not only do I serve drinks, but I-" A belch. "I also solve problems! If I'm lucky, mah patients might tip me enough so I can get that tattoo of that naked tart dry humpin' a flamin' skull on my arse!'"

Torch's eyebrow with multiple piercing loops on it twitched slightly.

Arthur picked up his shot glass and placed it down in front of Torch. He looked into the quiet man's dark eyes. "Mr. Torch tha bartender," he said calmly, "who is_ not_ a psychologist, I would be _most _grateful if y' give me a Bastard on da Beach please.."

Torch still remained quiet. He walked over to Arthur, angrily snatched up the glass, and went to the other side of the bar to fetch the Brit another drink. He came back, placing four taller glasses in front of Arthur. Torch opened his mouth to say something.

"Pff! I've done this before," Arthur told him, fanning his hand. "N' need of y' to go through all tha'!"

Torch began mixing the first drink. "Suffering Bastard, Dying Bastard, Dead Bastard, and Mai Tai," he said.

"Y're... correct!" the Brit answered excitedly before making a hiccup.

Torch shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Dun stop mixin' 'em 'til it's done, inky."

**00000000**

One Mai Tai later...

Torch blinked with amazement, watching Arthur drink down all four glasses with no trouble. The only time he ever saw someone finishing the 'Bastard Trilogy' was only once. The drunk Englishman was taking them down like they were just plain water. "Holy shit," he murmured.

Arthur leaned his head back, drinking the last glass while a little crowd behind him cheered him on. "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG..." went the chant.

Arthur's throat was on fire. He felt like puking from the bitter, strong, and sugary taste, but he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Once the liquid went down his throat, he leaned back forward on the table, slamming the glass down hard. Ice cube were flying out from the hard impact. He grunted and panted from the intense drink he chugged down. The crowd behind him cheered, giving him pats on the back. Arthur grinned and turned to Torch. He picked up the empty glass, holding it up with triumph. "Keep t'is up, inky, an' u'll get tha' ampallang in no time!" he told him before he made a huge cackle.

Torch walked away from the laughing Brit. "Fuck off," he murmured. The cheering crowd went off their separate ways as well.

The drunk Brit continued laughing, slamming his hand down on the table a few times. "Ampallang" he snickered then laughed out some more. He finally settled down and wiped the tears from his eyes from his good laugh. This was what he needed. This was his call for help. How he missed having the alcohol in his system. The intoxication. To not feel anything, and not giving a damn. This was his escape. His happiness. The Brit didn't need anything else. He didn't need anybody. The Brit turned his barstool around, facing the people who were either dancing, sitting, or mingling. The Brit held up his empty glass. "A toast!" he cried, "to meh! For... uh..." Some people were watching him and laughed while others just ignored him. "...for being the best-est and smartest muther fucker out there! And not dealin' wiff the likes of _dumb_ wankers. _Any_ pretty lady who wants ta party come an' see-" Another belch. "Come see _**meh**_! Plus, I have a fuckin' hot British accent!" Arthur swirled his chair back around, nearly falling over. "Hey!" he cried, slamming his hand down on the counter to get the bartender's attention. "Torch! Toooorch! Whooo-hooooo! Inkiiieeee!"

Torch ignored the Brit, helping another customer.

The Brit slammed his hand down harder. "Inky! Inky! Inky!"

Torch turned away from his customer and turned to the drunk. "What?" he barked.

Arthur blinked. "'Ey now! Dun be a wanker! R'spect 'ur cus'mrs an' gimmie a Jack!"

Torch snatched the towel that was hanging on his shoulder and walked to the other side of the bar to help another customer.

Arthur frowned and snorted when the bartender walked away from him. "Dun y' dare ignore meh, baldy!" The Brit then heard giggling next to him. Arthur slurry turned his head to two attractive girls sitting on the barstool next to him. Both were giggly and tipsy. "Oh!" he laugh. "Do y' two wanna hav' a go then?"

The girls giggled more and turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"Hey... hey, dun be shy now, luvs! I won't bite... not unless y' want meh to!" The girls continued giggling. One of them was saying to the other about how wasted the Brit was. The other was saying how cute Arthur was. "C'mon, then! Let's be off! I hav' a nice vehicle, I do! T' last one who makes it to meh car will have to sit on meh lap while I'm drivin'." The girls were in a fit of giggles. "I'm ser'us! C'mon! Le's go!" The two girls turned to each other, whispering. They turned back to Arthur and nodded an okay with a shrug. "JOOOLLY GOOD!" the Brit cried happily. Arthur put the glass down and reached into his pocket to grab his keys. He blinked and frowned. It was empty. He looked into his other pocket. It was also bare. "T' fuck are mah keys?" he murmured. He peered down at the floor, but saw no trace of them. He turned to the bar counter. No car keys. The Brit's eyes then wandered over to Torch who was cleaning a few beer glasses.

Torch was staring back. "Gotta problem, Arthur?" he asked.

Arthur frowned. "Giv' 'em 're," he demanded.

Torch shrugged. "Give ya what?"

"Dun play a dumb fuck, Torch! Mah blasted car keys. Giv' 'em ta meh."

"Even if I did have them, I wouldn't give them to you. Not under your condition."

"Th're not 'urs. Th're mine!"

Torch remained quiet and continued cleaning the beer glass.

Arthur growled and hopped off the stool, stumbling a bit. He slammed his hand on the table, frightening the girls and scaring them away. "I can hav' ya fuckin' arrested, y' know!"

Torch continued cleaning a glass with a dry towel. "I know," he said carelessly.

"It's_** mah**_ car, an' I kin do whatev' th' fuck I please! Now hand 'em over y' fuckin' arse!"

Torch chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, Arthur," he said. "Did she break your heart that bad?"

The Brit's face was scrunched up with confusion and his eyes narrowed. "Wut...? Wut, wut... w-w-wuuuut ar' y' talkin' 'bout?" he asked slurry with, of course, another belch. "No fuckin' bimbo broke meh..." Arthur paused with reality sinking in. He frowned softly. A broken heart. Why did that seem to keep nagging in the Brit's head?

Torch put his glass down, noticing the Brit's sudden change.

Arthur felt the man watching him and quickly recovered by laughing out and shaking his head. "People wit' brok'n hearts?" he said, snickering. "Those ar' for fags! I didn' com' 'ere for-"

"Arthur, I may not be a rich psychologist, but at least I'm one of those nice guys who gives a damn if a person comes in here, gets drunk off their ass, and think they're in good condition to drive. We don't do that crap here! I care about each and every person who walks through that door wether they think I'm cool guy or hate my guts." Torch reached into his back pocket, pulling out Arthur's car keys. "You can call the cops, call me every name out of the British dictionary, or whatever the hell you want, but I'm not letting you drive." The bald man tossed the keys over the Brit's head.

"H-hey!" Arthur cried as he watched his keys fly across the other side of the bar. The Brit saw someone catching it with one hand. Arthur squinted his eyes, seeing a blurry, small figure walking toward him. A taller figure was following right behind.

"Arthur-san?"

The Brit's blurry vision faded slightly, seeing it was Kiku and Heracles. "W... wut t' hell are... y' two doin' here?" he asked.

"Torch called us," the Greek answered.

"Arthur-san," the small Asian began while clenching Arthur's car keys, "I asked Torch-san that if he ever saw either you or Alfred-san in here having too much to drink, to call me immediately."

The Brit frowned and turned to Torch. "Y' fuckin'-"

"Arthur-san, do not blame him. Please, let us-"

Arthur turned to the Asian, stumbling once again. "P's off! I dun neeeed no fuckin' desiiignated drivah!" The drunker the Brit felt, the worse his sentences jumbled and slurred.

Heracles shook his head. "Um..." he said, crossing his arms. "I think you do, Arthur."

"Dun fuckin' st'rt wiff meh, Hercuuules!"

"Um, actually... it's... Herac-"

Torch interrupted. "Kiku, do you want my bouncers to escort him out for you?" he asked.

"T-that will not be necessary, Torch-san-"

"Bri' dah-" Hiccup. "Bri' da fuckin' brut's outta 'erehewants! I fuckin'... kick 'em in da... in da foot! I'mafuckin' stayin' 'ere!" The Brit reached over, grabbing a half finished drink that belong to one of the girls who ran off. He started dancing drunkenly, singing off key. _'Smaaah fuuuckin' paaaarty...!_"

"That's it," Torch said with a sigh. "I'm getting the bouncers."

The Brit took a swig of his new drink while shaking his hips. "_EAT MAH COOORN HOOOOOOLE_!" the Brit continued singing.

"Arthur-san. Please let us help you."

"Idun n'ya help! 'Mfine! Levmeh be!" Arthur sat back on the stool and turned his back to them.

"Please, Arthur-san. Do not be difficult. Let us get you home."

The drunk Brit ignored him and continued drinking his drink. He just wanted to be by himself with his alcohol. His coworkers had some nerve to come here and ruin his good night. Even if he did overstay his welcome, he would _love _to see someone try and kick him out. Just when he was about to take another sip, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. As soon as he felt contact, Arthur snapped. The Brit growled and turned back around slapping the hand off his shoulder whose belongs to Kiku. "FUK OFF!" he snapped. He watched as the startled man backed away. "Stay th' fuk 'way fro'meh, bas'ards! If I wanna mak' mahself drunk, I bloody, fuckin' can! I dun need y'fucktards feelin' sor'y f' meh! 'M fukin' stayin' r're! 'M fuckin' gonna drink an' hav' a good tim'! A' 'm gonna fuckin' do it 'til I bloody fuckin' paaasssssout..." Suddenly, the Brit felt lightheaded, his vision was getting blurrier, and then...

"Arthur-san!"

The Brit watched his two coworkers rushing toward him before everything went black.

**00000000**

"_Arthur-san, please. Just take-"_

"_F'off! Go t'hell, you... fucker!"_

"_Arthur-san..."_

"_He's not going to take them... in this condition. Just let him sleep."_

"_I dun... feel s'good..."_

"_Oh! Kiku... get the trash bin."_

"_I-I thought you had it."_

"_Stop yellin'! Y... y' fuckin' git... g'on thin! Go an' sleep wiff dat fuckin' tart... as if I bl'dy care..."_

"_What's he... talking about?"_

"_I h'you... I fuckin'... hate you..."_

**00000000**

"...yes, he is still asleep. I checked earlier."

"He's going to have... a hang over."

"That was quite a night."

"It was..."

_That's... Kiku and Heracles talking. Wait... where the devil am I?_

Emerald eyes slowly opened. He winced and closed them again from the brightness outside a window. The Brit came to a conclusion that he was back at his apartment in his bed. He turned away from the bright window. He sighed and placed a hand to his forehead, feeling like it was going to split in two. He didn't have this kind of a hangover in a long time. The tired man grunted and slowly sat up. "Fuck," he hissed and winced. What the hell was he doing last night? The only thing he remembered was seeing Kiku and Heracles at the bar. He also remembered making an ass of himself.

"...I am sorry about..." the Brit heard the Asian man stammered up front.

"Why are you apologizing?" he heard the Greek say slowly. "Things happen. That was smart of you... giving Torch your contact information. If he didn't have it... who knows where he might have ended up..."

The Brit had a huge hunch that his coworkers were talking about him. Sighing and not wanting to, he carefully got out of bed. The Brit placed both hands on his throbbing head. He then just remembered this was another reason why he decided to cut back on drinking.

"I am very worried about him," Arthur heard Kiku say. "He said he was never going to drink this much ever again. Why did he start back?"

The Brit blinked. The Japanese man had a good point. What _was_ his reason for drinking himself silly last night? The Brit frowned and closed his eyes tight. He remembered. Last night's incident with a certain coworker. He didn't want to think about him. He didn't want to think about what happened. That was why. The more the Brit thought of him, the worse his head throbbed. Arthur left the bedroom and dragged his tired feet to the bathroom. He went to his medicine cabinet to find some aspirin. He grabbed his bottle of hangover pills, but they were empty. He grunted and chucked it in the trash bin. He looked through other bottles. No pain killers. No tylenol. He had nothing to relieve his throbbing head. "Fuck," he hissed once again as he slammed the medicine cabinet door. He placed his hands on the sink counter and looked up at his reflection. His light blond hair was all over the place, and his eyes were red. He also noticed he had on his sleep wear. A simple white t-shirt and his boxers. He must have had quite a night. Too bad he couldn't remember anything. The Brit sighed at his reflection and turned on the faucet. He captured the cold water with his hands and splashed it on his face. It was so damn cold. It took a second time to get used to the cool liquid hitting his skin. It didn't help his pounding head, but it still felt relaxing.

"Arthur-san?"

The Brit raised his head and turned to the quiet voice from the doorway. It was his small Asian friend Kiku.

"Good morning," the Japanese man said with a small smile.

The Brit reached over and grabbed a bath towel hanging on his shower curtain. "A dreadful one if you ask me," he murmured, patting his face dry. He placed the towel down and turned to him. He then sighed. He was never used to these moments. "Kiku, thanks for..."

Kiku smiled warmly and shook his head. "It's quite alright, Arthur-san," he told the Brit. He held out a glass of water in one hand and two white pills in the other. "I could not find any medication, so I bought more for you last night. You... would not wake up."

The Brit took the glass and pills. "Thank you," he said before popping the pills in his mouth and drinking down the cold water.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Arthur-san?"

"Mh," the Brit hummed, shaking his head and drinking down the water still. He was very dehydrated. He finally pulled the glass away from his lips. "It's quite alright. Thank you, Kiku."

Kiku nodded and continued staring at the Brit, as if he was searching for something.

The Brit stared back, placing the glass back to his lips. He lifted a thick brow. Was there something else? Why was the Asian staring at him like he did something? He was too drunk last night to remember. What happened after he saw Kiku and Heracles? _Did_ he do something... or someone? Arthur cringed slightly. _Oh, bloody hell... I didn't...!_ The Brit pulled the glass away from his lips and took a big swallow. "Kiku..." he said uneasy, "did I happen to... do... I mean... did we..."

The small man's face went from concern to confusion. "I am sorry?" he asked.

The Brit closed his eyes and sighed with relief. "Um... n-never mind," he said.

The two continued staring at each other silently in the bathroom. Arthur frowned slightly as he placed the glass back to his lips. What was going on here?

"Arthur-san."

Arthur pulled the glass away and swallowed before replying, "Yes?"

Kiku pursed his lips, looking hesitant. "Did... something happen yesterday?"

Arthur took his glass and walked pass the Asian. "No," he answered simply. He walked back to his bedroom. He felt the smaller man trailing right behind. He didn't want to talk about last night. He didn't want to bring it up. He didn't want anybody getting in his business. He turned around and sat on his bed. He looked up, seeing Kiku staring and totally not looking convinced at the Brit's answer. "Really, Kiku," Arthur said with a chuckle. "I'm fine."

"Arthur-san, I understand it is not my place to get into your business."

"I'm fi-"

"And as a coworker, I respect that," the Asian continued, cutting the Brit off. "But as a friend, I feel that it is my place to make sure that you are not in some kind of trouble. No matter how big or small the situation is. Torch-san told me he was surprise you did not have alcohol poisoning from the number of drinks you had last night. Now that it is finally out of your system, it could have been... When it came to that, I cannot help but to feel even more concern."

The Brit chuckled before placing the glass on his night stand. "Kiku," he began. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not-"

"Have I done something to make you do this?"

"What?" Arthur cried, frowning. "No! Kiku, why would you-"

"Problems at work? Financial trouble? A sick or dying relative perhaps-"

"Kiku!" Arthur cut the soft tone man off. "There's nothing wrong, alright? What I did was simply out of carelessness. I just..." The Brit shrugged and turned his eyes away from Kiku for a split second, leaning his head to the side a bit with a lifted eyebrow. "...got into temptation, and got carried away, is all."

"I see."

The hungover man watched Kiku looking away, deep in thought. It was hard for him to tell what the Japanese man was thinking right now. It really didn't matter to Arthur as long as Kiku just drop the whole thing and leave. If he had a choice between accepting his throbbing head or getting tricked into an intervention with the entire staff of Freedom Unit, he would pick hangover any damn day. The Brit broke out of his train of thought when he heard a knock at his door. He looked up, seeing it was Heracles. He almost forgot he was still here. Did they both spend the night at his apartment?

"Good morning," the Greek greeted at the door. "Did you... get the pills?"

"Um, yes," Arthur answered. "Thank you both."

"We had to use your... washing machine. I hope you didn't mind."

The Brit blinked. "What for?"

This time Kiku spoked. "You got sick on all of us," he answered quietly.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand to his face. "Blimey," he murmured. He pulled his hand away and turned to them both. "Guys... I'm... so sorry you had to put up with me last night."

"It's okay, Arthur," the Grecian replied. "We're all okay. Don't... beat yourself up about it."

"We are your friends, Arthur-san," Kiku added. "Never forget that."

Heracles then broke into a small smile. "BFFs... right?" he asked.

Kiku turned to Heracles and smiled warmly in reply. If Arthur didn't know any better, he thought he saw the small Asian blushing.

Heracles stretched his arms out and yawned. "I'm... kinda hungry."

"I am famished myself," Kiku replied.

"What about you, Arthur?" the Greek asked the Brit. "You... should be too... after barfing so much last night."

"Um, that's alright," Arthur answered. "I think I'll just fix me something in the kitchen. If you want, I can fix you two some breakfast."

"Oh! No, thank you," Heracles answered rather loudly, holding up his hands. "You don't have... to go through all that. You... had a rough night. Come to the diner with us. Do you... really feel like cooking"

The Brit hummed, reaching for his glass of water. The Greek was right, though. He really wasn't in the mood for cooking. "Well..." he said. He then placed a hand to his pounding forehead. He really wasn't in the mood to go out today either.

"The medicine must be taking its time," the Brit heard Kiku say.

Arthur looked up at his Asian friend. "Um, yes," he answered. "I'm sorry."

"Would you like if we... bring you something back?" Heracles asked. "It wouldn't be any trouble. I'll... pay for it."

"Uh, that really won't be necessary, Heracles," the Brit answered.

"You must get you energy back," Kiku said. "You must drink more fluids as well. We will go to the Diner and come back with breakfast."

The Brit was going to decline again. He looked up at them both. Kiku gave him a warm reassuring smile. Heracles stared at the Brit with a nod. Arthur sighed. "Very well," he answered.

"Okay," the Greek said. "Well... while we're at it... we can ask Alfred if he wants to join..."

Arthur lowered his head. His teeth grinded behind his closed lips. His head pounded more. He clenched the glass in his hand so tightly, it shattered.

"Arthur-san!" Kiku cried. "Heracles-san, get the first aid kit!"

"Uh... r-right!" Heracles stammered before rushing out the room.

The Brit was breathing hard while staring down at his cut hand. He watched as droplets of blood landed on the beige carpet.

Kiku rushed over to him and carefully held his injured hand. "Arthur-san," he said gently. "What has-"

Arthur pulled his hand away from the Asian and stood. "I'm fine," he said flatly while walking toward the window.

"No, Arthur-san. You are not fine... and I am not just talking about your injured hand."

The Brit continued staring blankly out the window, watching a few people leave and enter their apartment complex. He just wanted to tune out from hearing what the man behind him had to say. He didn't care anymore.

_Just leave. Just fucking leave me-_

A hand was placed on the Brit's shoulder and he was spun around forcefully. He was staring into a pair of angry brown eyes. The Brit never thought the Japanese man had such strength.

"Arthur!" Kiku cried, pressing his hands tightly on Arthur's shoulders. This was Arthur's first time hearing the small man say his name without the 'san' at the end. "Did something happen between you and Alfred-san?"

The Brit frowned and looked away from the small man. He did not answer.

"I knew it," Kiku murmured. "What has he done?"

"Leave me," the Brit murmured.

"Has he hurt you? Said something to you? Took advantage of you?"

"Leave me!" Arthur cried.

Kiku grabbed Arthur's chin and forced him to face him again. "You are amongst friends here, Arthur-san!" the Asian said. "What has Alfred-san done to make you act this way? He can be a bothersome man, but he means well. He is a good person. Even you know that. And... I know you hate him, but that has not-"

Arthur backed away from Kiku's hold. "I don't hate him! Alright?" he cried. "I don't... I don't hate him..."

Kiku blinked and frowned softly. "Then," he spoked quietly, "what is it?"

The Brit quietly turned back to the window. He looked down at his injured hand, feeling more pain building up from his cut next to his aching head. More droplets of blood fell on windowsill. Arthur turned his attention back to the outside neighborhood, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nostrils. He felt he was going to pass out from his throbbing head after bellowing out at his Asian friend. So many things were swimming through his mind. "What is it indeed?" he whispered. If he didn't hate him, then what? The Brit kept replaying last night's kiss in his head. The git talking to Chamise on the phone. It was taunting him like tourists in London doing everything in their power to get the gate guards to flinch. Troublesome. Bothersome. And it was so _fucking_ annoying...

"Arthur-san?"

_Just... like... that... fucking... git..._

"Stupid git," the Brit hissed, eyes closed tight as if trying to erase everything that happened since day one. "Fucking..." Arthur took his good hand, angrily slamming it against the wall while on beat, yelling, "Fucking. Stupid. Git!" Arthur placed his forehead against the cold glass window. The coolness felt as if it was trying to sooth his rage, but it didn't take long for Arthur's body temperature to warm it. And the soothing sensation vanished. The Brit took a deep, shaky sigh thought his nostrils. Arthur couldn't deny it. If he did, he knew he would be lying to himself. The American was right, and Arthur hated it. He hated him, but he didn't hate him. It didn't matter anymore. The Brit was no longer going to spend the night with him. The phone call from Chamise was proof enough. The American's back up in case Arthur refused to share his feelings. How tacky. How repugnant. This was the biggest humiliation the Brit ever felt. His good hand that attacked the wall was now numb, just like his heart. Funny. If someone were to meet Arthur for the first time, they wouldn't think he had a heart.

"Arthur-san," the Brit heard Kiku (who he completely forgot) say his name gently behind him, "Arthur-san... do you?"

The sick Brit knew exactly what he was asking. He knew the Japanese man behind him was one of the smartest coworkers he had ever worked with. Kiku maybe quiet, but he was aware. Arthur finally turned around facing him. Kiku remained still in the middle of the room with soften eyes and a small smile, as if to tell him things were going to be okay. Heracles was standing a few feet behind him with the first aid box at tow. His expression was filled with concern, curiosity, and amusement all in one. The Brit looked down at his bleeding hand, then back at his coworkers. "What... do you think?" he asked uncertainly.

The Asian trailed his eyes down at the Brit's wound for a second and back to his face. "I think," he said slowly, "_you_ know, my friend."

The Brit looked in between them, deep in thought, deeper than he had ever had. Alfred's gorgeous smile flashed in Arthur's mind. He remembered wanting to kiss that happy-go-lucky man that night. He kissed him because it felt right. He enjoyed the American's lips pressed against his. They way he held him close. They way they laughed together during their water fight. He enjoyed all of it. So did the git. That moment he wanted again. That moment of both him and Alfred. Arthur frowned and closed his eyes. He knew. Oh, god, he knew.

"Oh... bollocks," the Brit whispered. He knew for sure, now, of everything. Of him. Of Alfred. It was all clear. But it was too late. He turned the American down. Alfred spent the night with Chamise, and he was going to do it again tonight. The Brit stayed quiet as the Greek walked him to the bed, sat him down and cared for his crimson stained hand. "Bollocks," he whispered again.

_I love Alfred. _

**This feels like a good stopping point for now. I'm glad I was able to complete this chapter a little faster than the last one. I think I will stick with writing 2-3 pages a day. Man, I was starving and sleepy at the same time that night when I was finishing up this last page, but I didn't want to quit writing. Just like most of my chapters, I'm not satisfied with this one. Lol I'm never happy with my work.**

**~(see the stars *)~**

_**1)**__ Torch snatched his arm away from the Brit's grasp. "You better watch it, England," _**(Well, I just felt like calling Arthur by his country name! Hahah!)**

**Thank you all for your patience, reviews, looking pass my fuckgrammer, and being awesome once again!****Hope you'll stick around for the next chapter. Be safe!**

**-Cry**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry Author iz sorry: **_Oh my god. See what happens when I get distracted with cosplay projects? And it's __**still **__not complete! I feel this chapter is kinda off, but it's finally here, folks. HUGE THANKS to **darkmiko18** for proofreading this for me this time. _

_I'm just gonna start writing my chapters when I feel it is time to write. I feel like I'm going to rush things, and I don't want the chapters to be funky and poorly... or vise versa. No, no, no... no negative thoughts, CryHOg. Think of something positive... something humorous to say... uh... um..._

_HitlerxBill Cosby _:B

_***watching everybody press the 'Back' button***_

_AW, COME ON! _D:

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**_**(**_**Stop... please... just let me go. Himaruya... Just let me go...**_**)**

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 14)~**

**00000000**

The Brit stared down at both his half-eaten food and his bandaged hand that was holding a plastic fork. He wished he was left-handed so his meal could be less painful, but it wasn't too bad as long as he wasn't holding it too tightly. The breakfast from the Diner was perfect as always, but he just wasn't up for eating everything like last time when he was offered the Diner food from... well... from _him_.

"Is it too cold, Arthur-san?"

Arthur turned to the person sitting with him at the kitchen table who spoke to him. "Beg your pardon?" the Brit murmured.

"I said," the Asian repeated, "is it too cold?"

Arthur watched as Kiku gave him a warm smile and his soft, brown eyes looked as though they were smiling as well.

After the glass incident, Arthur finally told his two coworkers everything. About Alfred and his very first night together. The argument. Chamise. Everything. He was thankful Heracles didn't make him go into details about the sex. The Brit thought he would, after hearing rumors about how he loved talking about it. Instead, Heracles just remained quiet and listened.

The Greek knew pretty much something was going on since the kiss at the bar, but he was wanting to see if the Brit would say something. Unlike Alfred, Heracles knew how to respect one's privacy.

Kiku kind of knew from the very beginning that Alfred had feelings for Arthur. He couldn't get over the fact that the American went over to Chamise's last night. That really didn't sound like the Alfred the Asian man knew. The Alfred Kiku knew would strive, fight, and be so damn persistent until he claimed his victory. His medal. Arthur was Alfred's medal. Why did he give up the battle so easily? Why did he surrender after coming so far? Something was off and Kiku couldn't understand why.

"No, Kiku," the Brit answered as he stabbed the fork down on his scrambled eggs. "It's fine. I guess I just don't have a big appetite like I thought I would."

"At least you ate something," said Heracles who was sitting with the two.

Arthur turned back to his white foam box. He_ really _didn't eat much. Two strips of bacon, a little nibble of a pancake, and a few sips of his tea was no hearty meal. Alfred definitely wouldn't count that as a feast. Alfred... Arthur sighed deeply, muttering, "Git."

"Arthur," the Greek spoke barely, "why don't you just call hi-"

"Absolutely not," the Brit snapped, face scrunched up with anger. He then relaxed his face adding, "Absolutely... not yet."

"When will you talk to him then?" Kiku asked, looking worried.

Arthur closed the foam box and got up from his chair. "Well, not now," he answered as he took his food to the refrigerator.

"You're in love... with him," Heracles explained. "If you wait any longer... you may lose him."

The Brit placed his food in the fridge and closed the door slowly. He had his back turned to them. He stared at the fruits and vegetables magnets scattered all over the fridge door. He wondered why he bought those ugly things? It then came to him. That day he bumped into Alfred at the food market, back when the Brit wasn't too excited to see him. The American followed the Brit through every aisle, babbling while Arthur tried to avoid him. He remembered when the git would rummage though his cart, telling him what brand product was better, and accidently ran the Brit's heel over with his cart a few times. Arthur just wanted to get the hell out of that store. If he hurried, he could wait for the American to come out and run him over with his car. He managed to ditch him at the check-out he rolled his cart to the exit, Alfred was waiting for him. Of course. Just when the Brit was coming with a plan to take his purchased salami and beat the git to death with it, Alfred placed something in his cart. It was fridge magnets shaped like fruits and vegetables. Alfred grinned and told him he should buy healthier foods. The Brit frowned, asking the git if he expected him to eat magnets. The git only laughed and said his farewell. Arthur sometimes wondered why he never got rid of them that day. Come to think of it...

"Kiku... he's zoning out again..."

Arthur frowned at what the Greek behind him said. He sighed and picked up a grape magnet. "I'm not zoning out," he murmured.

"What did Kiku say just now?"

Arthur blinked. "..."

"Arthur... call him."

The Brit grumbled, placing the magnet back on the fridge. "I'll talk to him Monday," he said, turning to them. He watched as the Greek shook his head in disappointment and the Asian man staring at the Brit sadly. Arthur frowned. "Hey."

"What?" both Kiku and Heracles said in unison.

The Brit frowned deeper. "Don't you dare say anything to him. Not a word." Arthur watched his coworkers averting their eyes from him, looking as though it was their intention to do just that. The Brit stormed over to the table and harshly slammed his hand over it. He watched the two sat up straight from the outburst like they were two students getting caught from goofing off in class. "I bloody mean it!"

Heracles blinked before asking, "And if you... don't talk to him Monday?"

"Not a bloody word, Heracles," Arthur replied. "If we _are _friends, promise me you won't talk to Alfred before I do. Please."

Kiku stood from his chair, gathering his empty foam box and cup. He stared at the Brit, saying, "Talk to him Monday, and you'll have our word."

Arthur sighed though his nostrils with folded arms. Kiku's promise felt more like a threat to the Brit even though it was in a soft-spoken tone. Finally, he nodded. "Very well," he replied.

"Thank you, Arthur-san."

"Right, then. Well..." The Brit reached over and took Kiku's empty dishes from his hand and took it to the trash bin. "Glad that's taken care of then."

"Me too..." the Greek replied.

"Monday morning, Arthur-san," the Asian man added.

Arthur goes over taking Heracles' empty foam dishes. "Monday morning," he said.

"Monday morning," the Greek said with a nod.

Arthur looked at them silently for a second before walking back to the trash can. "Monday morning," he murmured.

**00000000**

_~Monday morning, 8:45AM~_

"Alfred... about the other night. You... you were right. You were right about everything, and I have been a fool for not seeing it until now. That kiss did mean something. I was afraid if it were true, but I... I don't bloody care anymore. I don't even bloody care you were with Chamise the other night. I still would like it if we could work this out and... well... what I'm trying to say is that I... I..." The Brit turned to the blond person in front of him. The blond stared back at him. They shared the same nicely groomed hair. The same pair of green eyes. The same navy blue business suit. Not to mention that they shared the same idiotic look on their faces. Arthur sighed while the blond in front of him copied his gesture, both murmuring, "I love... the fact that I'm talking to myself in the blasted mirror."

The Brit groaned and pressed his face on both his hands in frustration. He couldn't do it. He was chickening out. But if he didn't go through with it, Kiku and Heracles were sure to say something to Alfred. Arthur pulled his hands away from his face and turned to the items that he placed on the sink counter. He brought Alfred's shirts and his brown jacket that he left behind the other night. If he could give them to the American, it would probably be a good opportunity (as well as an excuse) to see him. He grabbed the nicely folded garments, staring at the American's so called "special" jacket. He could smell both the brown leather material and the hint of the man's cologne. He ran a hand across the soft, black velvet collar. The style of the coat reminded him of a flying ace. There were even two small patches of a small airplane sewn on the left shoulder and a black star sewn on front. He noticed there was a sewn writing underneath the star, reading: "#1 Hero." Arthur rolled his eyes at that. "In what?" he asked himself. "Saving the cows and making burgers out of them?" The Brit sighed, looking down at the coat again. He turned to his watch. He had ten more minutes before clocking in. He wondered if Alfred showed up by now. He had to do this. Now or never... otherwise Kiku and Heracles will do it instead. Taking a deep breath with the garments pressed against his chest, he walked over to the restroom exit. As he reached out a hand to grab the handle, the door flung open. The Brit took a quick step back before his nose was connected to the hard wood door.

"Ah! If it isn't my Arthur!"

The Brit's lips curved into a snarl to see his French co-worker entering the restroom. "Francis," he murmured through his clenched teeth.

The Frenchman smiled. "Why looking so glum on this beautiful morning, _monsieur_ Arthur?" he asked while placing one hand over his heart and the other in the air, looking up at the ceiling. "It is a new day of hope, happiness, and love, _n'est-te pas_?"

"I _was_ a partial of those things until you showed up, tart," Arthur grumbled, waiting for the dreaming man to move away from the door.

"You should be all the above, my dear!" The Frenchman placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. The Brit looked down at it like it was poison. Francis turned back to the ceiling and slowly moved his other hand into the air as if trying to make the Brit picture what he was visioning. "One must let go of yesterday and look forward to today! Let the past go! Enjoy the future!"

"In the future, will you be no less than a million miles from me?" Arthur asked, brushing the Frenchman's hand off his shoulder. "Starting now?"

The Frenchman giggled. "You are such a... how you say... a joker, _amour_!" he said.

"Do you see me bloody laughing? Move out of my blasted way so I can clock in!" The Frenchman never budged from the door. Arthur growled. "Francis, I fucking mean it! Bugger off!"

"Let me watch you leave with a lovely smile, my sweet!"

Arthur frowned deeper. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he said. "Do I have to say it in French? _Le_-Bugger off!"

"_Monsieur_ Arthur," Francis chuckled. "Oh! I know what this is about!"

"Know what?"

The Frenchman giggled, placing a hand over his lips. He then moved it away, replying, "You are upset with me about that day still, no?"

"Wha..." Arthur huffed making a face as if the Frenchman was really stupid. "Are you... did it really take you_ that_ long to figure it out, wanker? You humiliated me in front of everyone at that café. And you act as if it were normal!"

"_Monsieur _Arthur, it is no big deal. You are such a silly... how you say... goose? How about a nice peck on the cheeks to make up for it, yes-no?"

"That's enough, you fucking tart!" the Brit cried, backing the now nervous Frenchman to a corner. "You are the most horrendous, annoying, _stupid_, inexcusable coworker I have ever dealt with! You're not a romantic, you're not impressing anybody, and you have no respect against any of your coworkers. You are a disreputable twat, Francis. A walking, talking, perverted plank! A blasted nutter! And if you ever sexual harass me in _any_ way, I won't hesitate to speak to Roderich and have him fire you faster than your bloody arse can say, 'Book me a flight to Paris!'" The Brit panted slightly, and his face was red with anger. While he was recovering after lashing out at Francis, he actually felt good getting all of that out of his system. He even felt confident enough to talk to Alfred now. He wasn't going to let this French jerk off ruin this day for him. He was going to confront the American and tell him the L word. Arthur turned to Francis, waiting on him to make some dumb remark. The Brit blinked, seeing the Frenchman in front of him had his head lowered, his long blond bangs covering his eyes. Arthur opened his mouth slightly, but was hesitant to speak. Arthur jumped slightly when he heard the man give out a shaky sigh. The Brit finally spoke. "Hey... Francis?"

"The rumors... they are true then?" the Frenchman murmured.

Arthur blinked with confusion. Rumors? What rumors? Did this had to do with... him and Alfred? The Brit's face paled. "W...what do you mean?" he asked nervously.

The Frenchman took another shaky sigh. "That you hate me... more than you hate Alfred," he said quietly.

_. . . ._

Arthur opened his mouth again, but only a cracked noise escaped from his lips.

"You are right," Francis said quietly, his voice cracking. "I am a fool. A stupid fool. I was blinded by how you really felt about me. I did not want it to be this way... I am a fool, Arthur. Forgive me."

Arthur was speechless by the Frenchman's sudden change. He even felt bad for yelling. When things couldn't possibly get any worse, Arthur saw clear droplets falling on the floor. They were coming from Francis. Tears. Arthur couldn't believe what was happening. "H-hey, now..." he stammered. "It's really nothing to..."

"_Je suis désolé_."

"What?"

The Frenchman raised his head, lips quivering, eyes red, and tears flowing down his cheeks faster than waterfalls. "I am sorry, _monsieur _Arthur. Please do not hate me. I am a good person! I am no criminal!"

Arthur held up a free hand in defense while still holding the jacket and shirts protectively against his chest. "I-I never said you were-"

Suddenly, the Frenchman fell to his knees. He reached out, grabbing the Brit's pants legs and pressed his face against his shoes, sobbing uncontrollably. "_Je suis désolé_," he sobbed repeatedly. "_Je suis désolé_... _Je suis désolé_... _Je suis désolé_...!"

"Francis," the Brit said, feeling awkward, embarrassed, and guilty. "Get a hold of yourself!"

"Please don't hate me... p-please! I really care about you, _monsieur _Arthur! _Je suis désolé_!"

Arthur just stared at awe. He was not expecting this from Mr. Romantic himself.

_Are you fucking kidding me? He went from Casanova to Chris Crocker._

Arthur frowned and sighed. He carefully tossed the clothes over to the sink counter, watching them made a safe and gentle landing. He squatted slightly, forcing the crying man to get back to his feet. "Francis," he said, placing his hands on his coworker's trembling shoulders. "My god, man! Calm yourself!"

"_Je suis désolé_," Francis whispered.

"I have no bloody clue what you're saying! Pull yourself together!" The Brit was relieved to see the Frenchman obliging. Francis sniffled as his nose was running. Arthur cringed at the sight. The disgusted Brit reached into his pocket and pulled out an unused handkerchief. "And _please _wipe your nose."

The sniffling Frenchman took the handkerchief. "_Merci_," he whimpered before placing it to his nose and blew hard.

"Ugh..." the Brit groaned at the Frenchman. He made Francis keep the wet cloth as he was giving it back to him. "Now, see here," he told him. He paused. He really didn't know what to say to him. He really hated Francis, but he did not know this was how he was going to react if he ever knew about it. He didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Really! The Brit thought telling Francis off would let him know that he didn't want to be bothered. How was he suppose to know he was going to do a Feliciano move on him? The Brit moved his hand off the crybaby's shoulder and took a quick glimpse at his watch. Six more minutes. He needed to cheer the man up, or calm him down at least. He placed his hand back on Francis's shoulder. "Francis, stop crying and listen to me, alright?"

The Frenchman sniffled a bit and looked into the Brit's green eyes. "Okay," he whispered.

"Ah, blimey..." Arthur murmured, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time today. Again... Arthur _really_ hated these moments. "I didn't mean to yell like that."

"But you do hate me," the Frenchman added.

"Francis, we were okay right before you just up and kissed me that day. Maybe that's how you greet your friends back in France. This is America for crying out loud! You don't just fucking do some stupid shi..." Arthur paused and bit down his lower lip when he saw the Frenchman flinching from his outburst. The Brit sighed and spoke calmly. "Look... don't do that when you first meet someone. Never do that to a complete stranger either. When you did that to me, you made me feel uncomfortable around you. I kept avoiding you because I was afraid you were going to do it again." The Brit paused again, listening to the Frenchman's sniffles.

"I am sorry, Arthur," Francis hiccuped. "It won't happen again. Just... don't hate me."

Arthur shook his head before turning to Alfred's clothes. "Forget it," he said. He turned back to the Frenchman. "And I should..." God, he hated, hated, _hated _this. "...apologize as well. I should have told you how I felt about the incident. Just a lesson learned for the both of us, right?"

"_Oui_. I have leaned my lesson."

Arthur nodded and squeezed both Francis's shoulder in a friendly way. "Right, cheer up now. Look, how about we start over? Let's say... over lunch. Anywhere you like, on me!"

The Frenchman's eyes lit up followed by a warm smile. "_M...Magnifique_," he said.

"Jolly good!" The Brit gave his shoulder a good pat before gathering the garments and heading toward the exit. "Clean your face, and get to work."

"_Oui, oui_, Arthur! _Merci_... _merci_!"

With a sigh of relief, the Brit quickly left the restroom before something else went wrong. Considering getting looks from your fellow coworkers when coming out wasn't bad enough, of course. Arthur turned to his confused coworkers and flushed. "...oh Bugger." They heard. The crew heard everything. The day when the Brit hoped his and Alfred's "lunch break" wouldn't be revealed, they ended up hearing Arthur babying his one out of two hateful people. Well, not anymore after what happened moments ago. _Whatever_ the hell that was.

"Arthur? What happened?"

Arthur turned to the person who approached him. From their height, he thought it was Kiku, but it turned out to be Wang Yao. He worked at Freedom Unit in China and transferred to America. He had been working for FU long before half of the employees were hired besides Roderich. He was kind to others, but some say he rarely talks to Kiku unless it was business wise.

Arthur chuckled nervously and held up his hand. "Oh, no, no," he said. "Everything's alright." He turned to the other nosy coworkers, announcing, "Ah, everything's fine! No need to be alarmed, really!"

"Was that Francis?" the Korean asked. "Is he okay-"

"Yes, yes! He's perfectly fine! We got everything worked out." Arthur turned to his watch. Four minutes. He turned back to Wang, having an embarrassed smile on his face. Arthur then noticed the Korean carrying something. It was a small gift bag. Beautifully design red and gold patterns. The Brit blinked.

_Red and gold? Wait a minute..._

"Arthur?"

Arthur snapped out of it and turned his attention back to Wang. "It's fine," he repeated. "No worries." He carefully brushed passed the Asian. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must clock myself in." Arthur speed walked down the cubicle aisle, ignoring the looks, the whispers, and snickering from his fellow coworkers. The Brit just looked straight ahead until he came to his private computer desk. He placed the clothes to the side, sat on his chair, and quickly typed a few keys on the keyboard. He was on time. Now what? Arthur sat quietly, staring blankly at the screen and lightly tapping his bandaged index finger on the letter J key.

_-riinng-_

Arthur absent-mindedly reached for the phone and picked it up. "Alfred?" he said, but choked when he realized what he blurred out. Recovering, he said, "H-hello?"

"_Arthur-san? It's Kiku."_

The Brit placed his free hand to his blushed face and sighed. "Oh," he murmured. "Good morning, Kiku."

"_Is everything okay? What was all that commotion in the restroom?"_

"Well, that's going to be the main attraction now, isn't it?" Arthur said while going through his desk drawer and pulling out a few documents. "Everything's fine, Kiku. Nothing to worry about."

"_People were saying you made Francis-san cry."_

Arthur cringed a bit. "Maybe I did go overboard," he replied. "But everything's worked out."

"_...how did that happen?" _the Asian asked uneasy.

"I have no clue."

"_..."_

"...Kiku?"

"_You didn't speak to Alfred-san yet?"_

The Brit turned his nose, knowing that question was coming a mile away. "I was about to until that incident with Francis happened," he answered. "I'm going to do it. Don't worry."

"_Will you do it as soon as you are done talking to me?"_

"I'll call him."

"_You will see him in person."_

"I will! I will! Bugger! You don't have to go all Star Wars on me."

"_I am sorry?" _the Japanese asked, sounding confused.

Arthur sighed, chucking the files to the side. "Never mind,"he murmured. The Brit was a little confused himself. With Kiku being an anime and sci-fi fan, he thought he would get the joke. Arthur rolled his eyes and brushed it off. "Anyway, I'll call you back." With that_, _he hung up without waiting to see if the Asian was going to respond. He turned to the clothes on his desk and took a deep breath. This was the moment Arthur had been waiting for. Almost. He wanted to do this. He needed to do this. Here it goes... "I lov...," he exhaled. Just about there... "I... I lo..." The Brit frowned and closed his eyes in concentration. "Alright. I've got this." He picked the phone back up and dialed Alfred's desk number. "I can do this. I _can _do this." Seconds later, the phone was making a busy signal. Arthur frowned and hung small blond stood and tried to stealthy peer over the tall cubicle wall. A few cubicles down, he saw the American sitting at his desk and talking on the phone. He didn't look upset, but he was all smiles. That same warm smile that night before he was acting strange.

_Just go to his desk. It's not that hard. I'll just approach him give him his clothes and ask to speak with him in private. And tell him... that word. _

"Brilliant, brilliant," he murmured to himself, agreeing with his thought. He took another look at his coworker and ignored a woman next door to him giving him a strange look before going back to his desk and snatching up the garments. "I..." he said to himself. "Alfred, I... I love..." Confidence. He left his desk and ignored the incoming call from a customer. He walked down the aisle, ignoring the looks once again. He took his time, but the Brit never missed a beat in his step. While going through his journey, he tried murmuring, "I love... I love..." Arthur sighed. He looked ahead and realized he was already at the aisle of where Alfred was. He pulled the garments closed to his chest, the hint of Alfred's scent hitting his nostrils. "I... love you," he whispered. The Brit's lips curved into a small smile. "I love you," he quietly repeated. "I love you... Heh... I... _love _you..." There it was. Confidence. Pride. Courage. Love. All bundled into one deep inside the Brit. He was one hundred percent sure. No, seven hundred percent sure that this was what he wanted. Who he wanted. Who he longed for. Arthur Kirkland loved Alfred F. Jones, and even if he had to go bold by kissing the man square in the mouth in front of the F.U. members, so be it. He wouldn't regret any of it. The Brit finally made it to his destination. Alfred had his back facing him, still on the phone. Arthur took interest of how the American's white dress shirt showed fine detail of his lean back. The way his dark brown slacks did the same with his hips. The Brit was almost drooling. Snapping out of it, he connected his index and middle knuckles against the cubicle wall, making a gentle tapping noise. This caught the American's attention. Arthur watched as Alfred turned his chair around to see who the visitor was. Arthur's heart melted when he saw that warm smile across his coworker's face, but he knew it wasn't directed towards him.

Alfred blinked, realizing it was the Brit and motion his hand for him to come in. "I gotta go, okay?" the American said to the person on the phone. "Someone's here to see me." Arthur stepped inside, remained standing. He watched as the American looked down at the floor, his eyes soften, his smile warmed more. Softly he said, "I love you..."

_. . . . _

Everything around Arthur stood quiet. It was suddenly getting hard to breath. His teeth clenched. He gripped the garments tighter and tighter. His mind and heart exploded with a feeling of disaster, pain, and hatred. _Pure _hatred.

_Please tell me this isn't happening... please..._

Alfred hung up the phone and turned his attention to a stunned Arthur. "Good morning," he said.

_-rriiiiiiipp- _

"Arthur?"

The frowning Brit roughly tossed the ripped shirts and wrinkled jacket in Alfred's face. "Piss off, Alfred," he hissed. "Fucking piss off!" The Brit turned a heel and stormed out the cubicle. Arthur angrily walked down the aisle, rudely bumping pass a few coworkers. It was maddening. Un-fucking-believable. Arthur was replaced, and all it took was a few days. And to think he was going to tell him that he loved that wanker. What a huge disaster that would have been if Alfred knew. Arthur was through. He had it. He officially hated that git once again. The Brit was about to turn a corner until someone grabbed his arm, squeezing tightly. He winced and turned to see who his encounter was. "The bloody fuck..." he grunted. His anger grew to see it was Alfred, pulling him in the other direction. "Let me fucking go, tart."

"Restroom. _Now_," the American whispered angrily. The Brit tried desperately to break free. He felt the employees watching him again. Their confusion. Their snickering. Arthur was definitely the highlight of the office today. While trying to break free from Alfred's strong hold, they passed by two other coworkers who were Kiku and Heracles, both looking worried.

"Alfred-san," Kiku said. Neither blonds stopped. Arthur turned to the two as he was being forced in the restroom. Once inside, Alfred freed the Brit and walked to the bathroom stalls, looking underneath them.

"You are bloody insane!" Arthur cried rubbing his sore arm. "Are you that pissed that I ruined your special retarded coat?" He watched the American went to each stall, checking to see if they were alone. "Well, I don't fucking care! Because you fucking deserve it! 'Number one hero'... bah! My bloody arse!"

Alfred turned to the Brit. "Keep your voice down," he said.

"What? So you can have your way with me for the last time? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Alfred's frown increased. "Arthur," he said with a warning tone.

"Well, you can forget it, git! You can have all the tarts you want! But I'm not gonna be one of them... you fucking tom!"

"..."

The Brit couldn't recall when he was being snatched away from the door or when he was forced inside the disabled toilet stall. As well as being pinned against wall with hot breath breathing on his face and having the blue eyes of death staring down at him. Arthur had to double check to see if his pants were still clean.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Alfred hissed. "You've already made your point that you don't want to be with me. I can't let something like a little heartbreak get to me. I have better, more important things to deal with than having you curse me down. I can't make you love me if you don't, Arthur."

Arthur stared into the American's eyes, flustered. Alfred had completely gotten over the Brit, and it was his fault. But Arthur did love this man. He really did. The Brit was so shocked at the taller blond's change, he couldn't speak. The American renounced his medal. The battle to fight for what he loved ended.

_What have I done...?_

"Alfred," the Brit whispered. "I..." The sound of the restroom door interrupted the now? It was always at the wrong time.

"_Monsieur _Arthur? _Monsieur _Alfred?"

Francis. The Brit blinked and turned to the American. Alfred stared back with a blank expression. Finally, he sighed and pulled away from the smaller blond. Alfred left the stall.

"Oh," the Brit heard the Frenchman gasped. _Monsieur _Alfred. Is everything alright? Is Arthur here too?" Arthur pushed his body off the wall and left the stall to reveal himself. "Ah! You are both here!" Francis said happily. "Kiku told me you two were in here arguing. Is this true?"

"Everything's..." Arthur said. "...everything's fine, Francis." The Brit turned to the American who was staring off at nothing.

"Wonderful!" the Frenchman said. "We are all friends here. Wether there are good times or bad, we should always stick together! Yes-no?" The American and Brit both remained quiet. "Things will be okay, yes? Let us get along!" The Frenchman turned, heading toward the door. He made a weird noise and turned back to them. "Oh! Arthur, thank you again. I will see you at lunch, yes?"

Alfred turned to the Brit. Arthur paled.

_Bugger..._

"Yes, um," the Brit replied. "I haven't forgotten." Arthur watched asFrancis left the restroom. Arthur still felt the American's eyes on him. This was getting uncomfortable.

"Looks like you two patched things up," the American said. "Good for you." With that, the taller blond headed for the door.

Arthur sighed. "Alfre-"

"You don't have to apologize," Alfred interrupted turning back to him with a small smile. "Even if you did end up loving me, it probably wouldn't work out anyway... there's just so much going on right now, and..." Alfred looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling.

As Arthur stared, he noticed a hint of sadness in the American's blue eyes. The same as the other night."Alfred," he said. "Listen-"

"I'm fine, okay? Everything's going to be okay... it's gonna have to be."

The Brit blinked, hearing a slight crack in Alfred's voice. "Alfred, look," he tried saying quickly before he was cut off again. "I really-"

Alfred held up a hand to stop him. "Arthur, just..." he said, his voice raised over the Brit's. "Just let it go." Alfred lowered his hand and used it to reach for the door. "I gotta get back to work."

"But I..." The Brit watched as Alfred walked out the door, leaving him all alone, confused, and just... lost. He watched his chance leave. Arthur slowly turned to his reflection on the mirror. Hurt was in his green eyes. "...love you," he finished.

* * *

**Hm... I can't remember if I had anything important to say here when I edited this chapter a bit. If I missed out any 'see the stars' on here let me know. lol (lazy)**

**be safe**

**-cry**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Welcome back, Author! How was Metrocon 2010?: **__It was FUCKIN' EPIC as always! Finished my cosplays on time, said hello to my favorite ppl in England Parlé, my best friend had a good time, my lil' sidekick had a blast. So I'm happy. ^3^_

_**How does it feel to be back in the real world, Author: **__...like getting a blow job from an alligator. _

_Special thanks to this chapter's beta reader **Koi Fish **__for going over my 'fuck errors' this time. Again sorry for the wait, but don't worry... you'll thank me later. ^-^ Enjoy!_

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**__**(Sweden has a deep ass voice in the anime LOL)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 15)~**

**00000000**

"_Monsieur_?"

_There's no point in me going back to his cubicle..._

"_Monsieur?_"

_Maybe I should just call him instead... but what if he hangs up? Maybe... I can catch him alone in the elevator like last time and-_

"_Monsieur _Arthur?"

"!" Arthur snapped out of his train of thought and turned to his concerned coworker Francis. "Oh," he said. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said the waiter is ready for your order, _Monsieur _Arthur," the Frenchman replied, gesturing to the impatient looking young man by their table.

"Oh..." Arthur blinked. Where the hell were they again? Time went by fast for the Brit, and lunch was already here. He came out of his trance after hearing the Frenchman trying to get his attention. The Brit had been zoning out a lot lately. What restaurant was this? Arthur turned to the waiter. Seeing that he was wearing a nice white dress shirt with a black vest over it, black neck tie, black slacks and a grey color apron around his waist, they were probably at Café Lindbergh(*). The one Francis invited him to before the kiss incident. He ate there a few times, but he thought they were too expensive. The food was amazing at least. The Brit blinked and turned his attention back to Francis who was nudging him.

"_Monsieur _Arthur," the Frenchman murmured, "your order?"

"Oh," he cried, turning back to the menu. "Right... my order. Um... I'll just have the turkey and Swiss, toasted wheat, _lightly _spread mustard, _no _mayonnaise please, and... ah, yes. Make sure the tomatoes aren't soggy like last time, bread sliced _diagonally_, with today's soup, and Earl Grey tea please." Satisfied, the Brit looked up at their waiter. Arthur blinked, noticing how the waiter was giving him a disgusted look. He had ruffled short ash blond hair, probably close to Alfred's age, attractive looking, and brown eyes. Or were they red? Brownish-red? _Must be contacts_,the Brit thought. Arthur then began to realized that some of the male waiters were wearing earrings, studs, and liphoops. Maybe the dress code really wasn't an issue in this business. The other customers didn't seem to mind the workers' appearances. Contacts or not, this silent stare was making the Brit uncomfortable. He closed the menu and held it up in front of the young man. "That'll be all, then," he told him with a nervous smile. The waiter took the menu from Arthur with that same hard look and took Francis' menu without looking away. Finally, without a word, the strange waiter left the table.

"Must be new, yes?" the Frenchman asked.

"Perhaps," the Brit answered, watching the young man leave. The two sat in silence, listening to chattering from other customers, clinging silverware, and smooth jazz music in the air. It was a very comfortable atmosphere. It was a four star restaurant, and it was always busy, slow or not.

"_Monsieur _Arthur?"

Arthur turned to Francis with an annoyed sigh. "Just Arthur, please," he said.

"Very well... Arthur."

The Brit stared at the smiling Frenchman. Arthur blinked and held out a hand. "Well," he said, "what were you going to tell me?"

"Oh, pardon me." Francis chuckled before reaching for his glass of water. He took a small sip and turned back to the Brit. "I just wanted to thank you again for inviting me for lunch. I am happy that we are starting over, yes?"

"That's quite alright," the Brit said with a soft shake of the head. "I'm glad things are back to normal." Arthur reached for his glass of water. He sighed before taking a sip. Were things back to normal? He made up with Francis. And he made Alfred not want anything to do with him. This situation only went from bad to weird. Arthur felt so uncomfortable and upset all day he couldn't focus on his work. Half of the time he would come up with an excuse to a customer, saying he was still new and transfer their call to a random employee and having them deal with the customer. Kiku called his cubicle later to see if everything was okay.

_**~Earlier (before lunch)~**_

"_Do not lose hope, Arthur-san," _he told the Brit.

"Kiku," Arthur sighed, rubbing his temple with his fingertips, "it's over. Drop it."

"_Do you want it to be over?"_

Arthur paused, thinking about the question. _It was no use_, he thought. The git made up his mind. "He's gotten over me," he answered. "There's no point in trying, now is there?"

There was another pause, from the Japanese man this time.

"Hello?" Arthur said.

"_You are giving up too soon," _Kiku finally spoke. _"You are weak, Arthur-san."_

Arthur frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"_You're giving up on an amazing man. You may never find another person like Alfred-san. "_

"Kiku-"

"_And you are quitting just like that?"_

Arthur's head was throbbing much worse. How dare this man was telling him he was weak? Maybe he wasn't _that_ psychically strong, but he was not weak. Not emotionally weak. And he definitely wasn't a quitter. "Now, see here," he said.

"_No more excuses," _the Asian cut him off. _"Talk to him._ _You let this go, Arthur-san, and you may regret it"_

"Then why don't _you _date him if you think he's fucking _brilliant_?" the Brit cried. Arthur heard the chattering around him silenced. The typing on the keyboards ceased. The only things heard were a few phones going off. He looked up at the heads peering over his cubicle wall while others were staring outside his door. Once again, all eyes were on Arthur Kirkland. Blushing, ashamed Arthur Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland, the office clown.

_Bollocks. _

The Brit almost forgot about the Asian on the other line. He thought he went too far yelling at him like that. He pressed his ear closer to the phone, hoping the man was still there. Sinking lower in his chair the Brit said uneasily, "Um..."

"_...Tell him, or I will," _Kiku said.

"Uh..." Arthur said before swallowing. "A...alright."

_-click _

The Brit pressed his face against an open palm while placing the phone back on the receiver. "Please stop... _fucking_ staringat me," he told the snickering employees.

_**~end flashback~**_

"You don't sound so sure," the Frenchman said with concern in his voice. "You look as though you had a lot on your mind earlier. Do you want to talk about it?"

_Crikey..._

The Brit chuckled. "Don't be foolish," he said. "I was just trying to remember if I gave the last caller I talked to the right information on her credit card."

_Brilliant lie!_

"So... there is no trouble with you and _Monsieur _Alfred, yes?"

"Not at all. We're..." Arthur reached for his glass and cleared his throat. "...BFFs." He took another sip.

The Frenchman blinked. "What is this... BFF?" he asked.

"You know. Best friends forever?" Arthur wanted this conversation to end. It was time to change the subject. "What did you order?"

"Ah! I have ordered the shrimp salad with a side of garlic bread. Delicious! You should try it next time."

"Sure."

"So... this BFF..."

_Bollocks..._

"Best friends forever," the Brit replied. "That's what it stands for."

"Do you think you and I will become BFFs too?" the Frenchman asked with hope in his blue eyes.

Arthur sighed, resting his elbow on the table and placed his chin on his palm. "Sure," he said.

"Wonderful! We shall make a toast, yes?" Francis happily held up his glass of water in front of the embarrassed Brit. "To BFFs!"

Arthur took his own glass and gently placed it against Francis's glass. "Uh... here, here."

"You have made me the happiest man in the world, Arthur. We should have invited _Monsieur _Alfred as well to share this wonderful occasion."

"That's quite alright," Arthur murmured. Time to change the subject once again. "What are you having for dessert?"

"Do not be silly. Since you and _Monsieur_ Alfred are this BFFs, he should be part of the family, yes-no?"

"Whatever," the Brit replied, playing with his teaspoon. "I think I'm having the cherry cheese cake."

"I have been hearing from other coworkers about how much you did not get along with him in the past. But I am glad you two are working it out like we are. You two should never give up on each other. You'll never know when you two may need each other one day."

". . ."

"No one should ever be alone. Forever is a long time, yes? It's good to keep the extra F attached to the BF."

The Brit stared silently at the Frenchman. His eyes began to soften. "Francis," he said.

The Frenchman giggled. "I thought of something funny. BFF could also stand for boyfriend forever. It is... how you say... wacky?"

Arthur shook his head with a small smile. "Yes," he replied. "Wacky indeed." For a strange man, the Brit realized how deep and passionate the Frenchman was. Seconds later, the coworkers' waiter returned with tea cups and a tea kettle on a tray. He quietly placed them on their table. He took the empty tray and started to leave. "Ah, excuse me," Arthur said, trying to stop him, "could it be possible if you could get me..." The waiter was still walking away. "Ah... never mind, then..."

Francis blinked at the waiter's behavior. "Should we ask for the manager when he returns?" he asked.

"Don't bother," Arthur answered while reaching for the tea kettle and pouring the hot water in the tea cup. "He's probably having an off day."

_I know how that is._

"He doesn't have to be so rude. I thought the customer is always right, _n'est-te pas_?"

Arthur snorted while dipping his tea bag in his cup. "Rubbish," he said. "That's one of the biggest lies I have _ever _heard. Rude customers are like the devil's left testicle."

Francis giggled at that. He then blinked and leaned his head to the side. "Then... what does that make the dedicated workers?" he asked. "The, uh...how you say... right testis?"

"Oh, no, no. That would be the devil's rectum. The economy is the devil's right testicle."

"Arthur!" The Frenchman was in a fit of giggles, and he nudged the chuckling Brit. "That is _terrible_."

"Just saying," the Brit laughed. "Though you have to admit that's how bad it's been these past few years."

"Very true, my friend."

The Brit's laughter finally died down. He reached for his tea cup and took a quick sip. He quickly pulled away when his upper lip connected with the hot liquid. He placed the cup back on the saucer and watched the Frenchman dipping his tea bag in the water a few times.

"This has been really nice, Arthur," Francis said. "I truly hope we do this again, yes?"

The Brit nodded. "Sure," he said.

"You must bring _Monsieur _Alfred next time."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his steaming tea. "I... suppose."

"Promise?"

The Brit turned to the grinning Frenchman. He sighed and nodded. "You have my word," he said.

_If only I bloody knew how..._

**00000000**

_Come on, come on... Ugh! How bloody long does it take to turn off the computer and leave?_

Work finally came to an end for today. The F.U. employees began closing their stations eagerly after a long, boring Monday. Arthur, meanwhile, was peering over his cubicle wall, watching Alfred from afar. He watched and waited _patiently _as the American was talking to someone on his cell phone and taking his time cleaning out his station.

The Brit let out another huge sigh while rolling his green orbs. "Can you multitask any slower, git?" he asked himself. Arthur decided to stick with the strategy of catching Alfred when he was alone in the elevator and hoped it would be only them two. Arthur's heart then jumped as he saw the American finally shutting down his computer. _This is it, _he thought. Alfred continued talking on his cell phone. He looked like he was just about to leave until he paused and sat back down on his chair. He pulled out a piece of paper and pencil and began jotting things down. Arthur groaned and lightly banged his head against the cubicle wall. "Arsehole," he murmured.

"...so is he quitting or something?"

"I just over heard him saying something about going out of town."

Arthur glanced at two coworkers talking from the other side of the aisle. He ignored them and turned back, spying the git again.

"For how long? Do you know?"

"Not sure. He told the boss that he'll come back when it's time."

"Working here with no Alfred. That's music to my ears."

Arthur blinked and turned his attention back to the two employees.

_He's going out of town? Where is he going?_

The Brit recognized the two people talking right away. They were Dennis and Jasper. Two of the most meanest and fake people Arthur had ever known. They would act nice and kind around people, but then would talk badly about them behind their backs. (*) Arthur normally would hear them talk badly about Feliciano, but this was his first time hearing Alfred's name escaping their lips.

"Wherever he's going, he should stay there permanently," Dennis said. "He's an annoying fag."

Jasper laughed. "Fag?" he chuckled. "You think he's gay?"

"Doesn't make a difference what the hell he is," Dennis replied. "Seeing a grown ass man still playing with toys is down right weird _and _gay. He's like Pee Wee Herman on crack."

Arthur frowned.

_Well, the nerve of..._

Jasper grinned. "He does seem to hang around that British guy. Arthur was it?"

"No doubt he's screwing around with that swearing nut case," Dennis said while placing some documents in his desk drawer. "I bet he'll screw anything that moves."

Arthur's teeth clenched tight.

"If he _is _screwing that Brit, it must be the end of the world," Jasper said before taking a sip of his cup of water. He then added, "that'd be like humping a cactus."

"Ouch," Dennis chuckled. "A loser fucking a loser."

That was the last straw. Arthur left his cubicle and casually walked over to the laughing duo. "'Ello, chaps!" he greeted them with a smile.

The two men looked shocked, not noticing the man approaching. "Hey, Arthur," Dennis said while putting on one of his best business smiles. His smiles would always have the women coworkers drooling all over him. Arthur, of course, wasn't buying it.

"Still here, man?" Jasper asked before taking another sip of his water.

"Yes," the Brit answered, loosening his tie a bit. "What were two you talking about? Telling jokes?"

"Oh," Jasper stammered. "Sorta."

"Oh! Is it one of those 'your mum' jokes?"

"Ah... heh, it's 'your mama' actually," Dennis replied, chuckling. "Not 'your mum'."

"Oh! I just love those!" Arthur exclaimed happily. "Let me hear it, please!"

Both Dennis and Jasper turned to one another, stumped.

"Well," the Brit said, arms folded, "surely it can't be _that _bad."

"No, no," Dennis said with a nervous chuckle. "It's a good one."

"Jolly good!" Arthur then turned away and motioned his hands to the remaining coworkers in the building. "Can I have everyone's attention, please! Dennis and Jasper are going to tell us their _best _'your mama' jokes!" The remaining coworkers blinked and looked at one another.

"Uh, Arthur," Dennis said.

Arthur turned back to Dennis and grinned. "No, no. It's quite alright! I'm sure this will only take a moment." He turned back to the workers, motioning his hands to them more. "Come on, then! It's quite alright! Please! Gather around, now!" Finally, everyone approached the cubicle.

"Jokes?" Feliciano said excitedly. "I love jokes-ve!"

"_Oui-oui_!" Francis replied, agreeing.

Dennis and Jasper were turning red in their faces, seeing the crowd and all eyes on them.

Arthur smiled, clasping his hands together. "Right!" he said. "You got a big crowd here, you two. Off you go, then!"

Dennis sat up a bit in his chair, chuckling nervously. "Okay, um," he began, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat. "Well... uh... it goes like, uh... heh, um... heh, I'm trying to remember."

"Oh, what's this, now?" Arthur said. "Was it so funny, that you forgot? How about telling them the one about Berwald."

The two men blinked.

"Berwald?" Jasper stammered.

"Yes, it was something like... how he's so quiet that he belongs back in the prehistoric age?"

The two embarrassed men turned to each other again.

"Or how about..." the Brit tapped a index finger on his chin, looking up in thought, "the one about Feliks? You two thought he belong in a cheerleading squad because of the way he talks. And that if he was wearing a cheerleaders uniform you wouldn't mind giving him a good lay even if he were a guy."

"Wait... what?" Feliks was heard saying in the crowd.

"Uh, Arthur," Dennis said with a chuckle, "what are you talking a-"

"Oh, and there was one about Gupta," the Brit broke him off. "You were saying something about Egyptians are only good for building pyramids and mournrning over dead cats, and that they don't belong in America. You joked about whenever he talks to a customer over the phone that he's probably asking them if they have a cat dying anytime soon."

Gupta blinked.

"Ah, look, guys!" Jasper said to the group. "I don't know what he's going on a-"

"Anything about a Mr. Wang Yao?" Wang asked, cutting him off. He stared at the two hard, arms folded.

"Oh, yes," Arthur answered as he turned to Dennis and Jasper. "About both you and Kiku actually."

"_Soka_..." Kiku replied, also sounding curious. "What was it about?"

"They think you two are better off taking a samurai sword and committing suicide since that's an Asian's answer for everything."

The crowd was murmuring among themselves. Dennis and Jasper were growing scared.

"You would want to see Wang killed...?" Ivan asked, looking shocked. "Why do you say cruel things?"

"Oh, there's one about you too, Ivan," Arthur pipped. "Would you like to hear it?"

Dennis stood from his chair. "Okay, that's enough!" he cried.

Berwald then approached the man, towering over him. "Sit," his deep, monotonic voice said.

Dennis cringed and sat back down.

"Aw, come on guys," Jasper spoke with a chuckle. "We were just having fun."

"Then if this is what you call _fun_," Arthur said, "why didn't you share it with the rest of the us? As you can see they were all _oh_-so eager to hear it. Isn't that right, everyone?"

The group just stared silently at the two.

"Look," Dennis said, "it's... not a big deal."

"Oh!" the Brit cried sarcastically. "I see! So you mean it's not a big deal if I go around telling everybody how your wife has to spend her fun nights with a dildo, because she doesn't want to catch that _rash _on your _dick_?"

There were a few snorts and chuckles from the crowd. Dennis placed a palm on his face, ashamed.

"You brutes may have most of us fooled, but not me. If there's something on your mind, _please _don't hesitate to tell us directly to our faces."

Both Dennis and Jasper grew quiet.

"Ah... I see. You can't can you? Because you're shitting bricks scared that Ivan, or Berwald, or Ludwig, or maybe even Alfred would cave your fucking faces in. Psh... I wish they would. We have enough nonsense in this world as it is!" The Brit took one last disgusted look at the two and walked off into the crowd. "We're grown human beings, dammit!" he cried over his shoulder. "Fucking act like one!" Arthur walked back over to his cubicle, gathering his things. He looked over the cubicle wall to see if Alfred was still at his desk. It was empty. He turned to the angry chattering crowd to see if he was there. No Alfred. The Brit hissed a swear word. The American may had already left before the incident. Arthur sighed and left his station.

So much for that idea. Arthur walked over to the elevator. When he pressed a button, the doors immediately opened for him. He walked inside and press the G' button. He looked straight ahead, still seeing the crowd of coworkers yelling at Dennis and Jasper. He even saw Ludwig grabbing Dennis by the collar, lifting him off the ground. Feliciano cried and begged for the German to put him down. The Brit couldn't help but chuckle. Even though he didn't catch Alfred, it was worth standing up for him and the others. The doors slowly started to join together. Just then, they opened again, letting a person inside. The Brit blinked by surprise to see who it was.

_Alfred..._

The American quietly walked inside. He reached over and pressed the 'close door' button. Arthur remained quiet. Stiff. Nervous. His heart was painfully pounding out of his chest.

_This is it. Bloody say something. Oh, bollocks! Why can't I speak?_

The Brit quietly cleared his throat along the ride.

_Oh, great! Clearing my throat really helps! That's the best you can do?_

"Hey."

Arthur blinked. He turned to the taller blond that spoke up next to him.

Alfred made no sudden movement. He just looked straight ahead. "I heard what you said back there," he murmured. "I heard everything."

"Oh, well," Arthur said, shrugging. "They just needed a taste of their own medicine. No big deal at all."

"Yeah."

Both blonds continued staring straight ahead. Silence. Awkward silence.

"That was cool of you standing up for everyone," Alfred spoke again.

_Well, I was mostly standing up for you, of course._

"It was nothing," the Brit replied. "I guess after all that, people will realize I'm not just some foul-mouthed bastard."

The American nodded. "Yeah," he said.

"Yeah," the Brit repeated.

Silence once more. Not as awkward as before.

"What about you?" Alfred asked.

The Brit turned back to the taller blond. "Hm?" he asked.

"Isn't there something you wanted to share with me?"

Arthur's face flushed. "Oh, uh..."

"I saw you spying on me. Did you want something?"

Awkwardness was now at maximum level. Arthur loosened his tie more. "Oh," he chuckled nervously. "You saw?"

Alfred turned to the Brit, expression still the same, but with a hint of curiosity in his blue eyes. "Yeah," he answered. "So what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

_You got his attention, Kirkland! Take her home!_

"Yes," the Brit replied turning to him. "About this morning..." The Brit then turned his attention to the items the American was holding. It was the shirts and the jacket he flung at his face that morning. He remembered accidently ripping one of them. Arthur hoped it wasn't the jacket. He did remember the git saying it was special to him. He then noticed how he had the two shirts hanging over his left shoulder, holding his briefcase with his left hand, and holding the jacket protectively and gently against his chest with his right arm. Like he was holding a baby. Who gave it to him? Maybe it was custom made specially for him. Maybe it was passed down to him from the Jones generation. Maybe it used to belong to a person special in his life and gave it to him before they passed away. Why was the Brit feeling both guilty _and _jealous?

"What about this morning?" Alfred asked.

"Oh. Right. This morning..." He looked back down at the jacket again. He pointed at it silently. "I-is it... ruined?" he asked.

Alfred blinked. "What?" he asked.

"Your jacket. I... I-I didn't ruin it did I?"

Alfred looked down at the brown leather jacket and shook his head. "It's fine," he answered.

"Good."

"Is that all?"

"Yes... I-I mean no. It's about this morning."

"I told you there's no need for you to apologize," the taller blond said.

"That's not just it," Arthur frowned shaking his head. "Not only about this morning. I wanted to talk to you... about the other night. Alfred, I'm-"

_-ding-_

The elevator doors opened, revealing to the two blonds their destination. Alfred kept his attention to the Brit still. Arthur took a quick glimpse outside the parking garage. He winced and turned away quickly.

_No more distractions. Ignore your surroundings! Just say it, dammit!_

The Brit frowned and looked dead into the taller man's eyes. "Alfred, I just realized that I-"

Alfred's cell phone went off. But the ring tone wasn't the "Star Spangle Banner" this time. It was a completely different song. One that the Brit knew too well.

_That's... 'The Long and Winding Road'... by the Beatles._

The tall blond immediately sat his things down and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell. He pressed a button and placed the phone to his ear. "Yeah," he said. The American suddenly frowned with worry. "...when? ...what?" Alfred looked down at his wrist watch and frowned deeper. "Dammit, that was four hours ago! ...why didn't you tell me this 'til now?"

The Brit couldn't make out what the person on the other line was saying. He wasn't sure if it was a woman's voice or a man's. All he could see was how the American's soft blue orbs went from concern to panic.

"Alright, just let me..." Alfred began, but the caller cut him off. "...okay! I can book an early flight. I can get there tom- ...I have it under control. I'm-" Alfred sighed and snatched his glasses off with his free hand. He held them with his middle, ring, and pinky fingers while using his index and thumb to rub at the bridge of his nose. He was growing frustrated, and the Brit could tell. "Why?" he murmured. "...Why...?" he repeated louder. "This isn't- ...Ke- ...why, why, why, _**why**_? Why are you making this difficult? I should be there!"

Arthur was getting nervous. It was bad enough seeing Alfred angry from afar, but seeing him angry up close was more terrifying. But who was this person whose names began with K and E? Kevin? Kesha? Was it the same person the American was arguing with that day? Arthur wanted to know.

"I already told my boss I'm going out of town," the upset man said. "N - ...No. I told him I'll come back to work when I'm ready, and he gave me the okay. I can get an earlier flight. ...no, it will be fine. ..._everything _will be fine! I told you! I'm- ... ah, my god! I- ...I don't care! ...I don't give a damn anymore! I'm coming whether he likes it or not. He can't- ...hello? Hel- ...shit." The American stepped out of the elevator and pulled the phone away from his ear. He looked down at it for a few seconds and placed it back to his ear. "Hello?" he said again. Again he pulled the phone away and press a few buttons. He placed the phone back to his ear and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Alfred cursed under his breath. "Unbelievable," he murmured, rubbing the bridge of his nose again. He pulled his hand away and looked up at the ceiling. "It's me. Call me back... please." The worried American sighed and put his phone away.

The Brit blinked, standing completely still in the elevator. He was scared to speak. He was scared to take a breath. What was going on? As Arthur watched the American staring off into nothing and deep in thought, the doors began to join. The Brit reacted and quickly reached over, pressing the 'open doors' button. He gathered all of Alfred's things before hesitantly walking out the elevator, feeling uncomfortable, mostly concern. He walked over to the taller blond. He looked down at the things in his arms then back up at him. "Um..." he murmured, "maybe I... should have let you talk in private."

The American turned to the Brit, seeing that Arthur was struggling with holding two briefcases and the clutter of clothes. He walked over to him and gathered his own things. "It's okay," he said. He turned to the Brit and gave him a warm smile. "I'm sorry, but... can we discuss this another time?"

"Oh! Um... s-sure..."

_Blast it all!_

Alfred nodded. He averted his eyes from the Brit, looking hesitant to speak. He turned back to him. "I know I was supposed to cook for you this Friday..."

The Brit blinked, shocked. "Oh," he said. "Y... you were going to..."

_He still wanted me to come over...?_

"Well, now that you know that I'm leaving town, I'm afraid it'll have to wait 'til I get back."

_The question is when are you coming back, you git? Are you coming back?_

The Brit chuckled and held up his hand. "It's quite alright. It can wait. You seem to have your hands full."

"Thanks for understanding." Both blonds exchanged quiet and hesitant looks. Arthur wondered if he should just go and blurt it out. Whatever was going on between Alfred and this K.E. person, the Brit felt he should just wait. Something in his mind _and _heart was telling him to hold back. For now. Arthur watched his coworker slipping his glasses back on. The Brit knew how badly the man was trying to keep a calm face with one of his goofy smiles, but Alfred's eyes were the only thing that was giving him away. Without a doubt, Alfred was afraid. But of what?

Alfred took his thumb and pointed it back over his shoulder. "Listen, I better get going," he said.

"Oh! Right, right," the Brit replied with a nod. With a small smile, the American turned and walked the opposite direction. Arthur watched as his one chance, yet again, turned a heel and left. He watched the American walk further down, his shoes clomping and echoing all across the parking garage. Arthur sighed and shook his head. "Hey!" he called out.

Alfred stopped and turned to him. "Yeah?" he called back.

"I..." Arthur paused and frowned.

_This... doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right to say it now. But why?_

Arthur turned back to the American. "I... call me. _Anytime_. It can be in the middle of the night. If... you just need someone to talk to... I'll be here to listen... alright?" Arthur could see the American giving him a small smile with a nod.

"That'd be great," Alfred said. "Thanks."

The Brit nodded with reply.

Alfred began walking backwards slowly, giving the Brit a quick wave with the jacket still in his grasp. "See ya."

The Brit held out a hand with a small wave. "Cheers."

With that, the American turned and walked off once again. Arthur inhaled and exhaled through his lips, making them sound like a motor boat. "I just fucking can't get a break," he murmured.

* * *

**Well, at least they're talking again, right? This is actually the second time, I was feeling emotional and in the verge of tears writing this chapter. Like from chapter 12. There's something wrong with me. Haha!**

_**~(* see the stars *)~**_

_1) Seeing that he was wearing a nice white dress shirt with a black vest over it, black neck tie, black slacks and a grey color apron around his waist, they were probably at Café Lindbergh.: _**(Café Lindbergh is actually a BL (yaoi) PC game. The very first yaoi game I ever played. Not to be confused with Café Kichijouji. It's funny how both stories have 5 main boy characters and they both work at a café with almost similar work uniforms. I've actually never read/watched ****Cafe** Kichijouji. The Lindbergh story line is pretty lame though. Pretty much you play any 5 characters you wish in the story and you get those multiple choice questions, and hope you pick the right one. It's cool pairing up different characters, but the image shots and audio sex scenes... OH... GAWD... THE SEX SCENES! Gives me a feminine boner everytime! xD- They also made a sequel for the PS2, but it's hard for me to get my hands on it. T3T My partner in crime made me a copy of Silver Chaos, but I have no clue how to install it. I fail.) 

_2) They would act nice and kind around people, but then would talk badly about them behind their backs: _**(How many of you know assholes like Dennis and Jasper? It's never fun being talked/made fun of behind your back, isn't it? The part that sucks jolly ranchers the most is how you get trolls, haters, or flammers saying whatever the hell they want on your profiles or emails. Because they know they're safe behind their computer, in the internet world. But I betcha **_**ANYTHING **_**maybe a 87% chance that they wouldn't say that awful thing they said on your profile **_**directly **_**to your face. ****Just like Arthur said. If they have the numb nuts to say it on the computer, why not in person? If it's called freedom of speech-then by all means, say what you gotta say up close and personal. ****Fucked up world, I tell ya... how many of you are hyped about 2012 and the Apocalypse? *only one rasing her hand* ...oh. ^^; The point I'm trying to get, if you guys get crap like that don't pay them any mind. I know it hurts, but try not to let it get to you. Not too much, anyway. Haters gonna hate. Just try your best to ignore them, keep yourself distracted to not think about it, and just live life. No one knows you better but yourself. Seize the day!)**

**Remember when I told you guys to thank me later? Guess what?**

**There's another chapter being uploaded soon after this. **

**You're welcome. :D**

**Be safe.**

**-Cry**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Whoa there! The Author says stop everything!: **__Meaning, if you haven't read chapter 15 yet, do so. This week I've done something that's pretty rare in my fanfics. I actually competed two chapters in a day. So again, if you haven't read chapter 15 yet, please do so you won't get confused. For this chapter I would like to give thanks to _**_Koi Fish_**_ for going over my errors! Man, I'm so proud of myself for completing these two chapters! :B I'm gonna reward myself and upgrade my bed toy up to medium level tonight... Wait! I, um... I mean, um... _

_...crap. _

_**Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya**__**(when I meant bed toy, I was talking about my... PSP. Yeah... that's it. ^^;)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 16)~**

**00000000**

Arthur made it to his apartment later that evening. He yawned and locked the door, kicked his shoes off, dragged his feet down the hallway, and walked in his bedroom. He didn't bother turning on the light as he slipped off his necktie, dropping it carelessly on the floor. His stressful and aching body carried him straight to his bed. He leaned forward and fell face down on the comfy mattress. He muffled a tired groan as he clenched the sheets. As he inhaled, he smelled a familiar fragrance. The Brit raised his head and took the sheets, placing them to his nose. He inhaled deeper. That fragrance. That wonderful, familiar cologne. "Alfred..." he murmured. Alfred's smell was all on the Brit's sheets. He remembered one night he was wearing one of Alfred's shirts that had his cologne. Most of it must have rubbed off on the bed. Damn it all. It wasn't fair. Even with just his smell, the Brit couldn't stop thinking about him. He needed to get drunk and quick. Arthur pushed himself off the bed and rushed to the kitchen.

_**~one beer hunt later...~**_

How could the Brit drown his sorrows with a case of beer in his apartment when he didn't have any? He checked his drawers, his cabinet, even his stash underneath his bed. No sign of any alcohol. The Brit cried a swear word as he slammed his refrigerator. He was truly certain he had a six pack of Heineken in the fridge. What happened to them? It then hit him. The night Kiku and Heracles were there. Arthur frowned, clenched his teeth, and pulled his hair. "Fucking wankers," he hissed. They threw away his beer. He was sure of it. How dare they? Doing an outrageous stunt like they did, Arthur should sue. It didn't matter. He could always get more. Next stop, the liquor store.

**00000000**

"Let's see... scotch. Bourbon. Moonshine, of course. Gin... gin... gin... Oh! Thank the queen of England! They have gin!" The Brit was in heaven as he was filling his shopping basket with alcohol. He had to go to the other side of town where they carried the best of the best. The dangerous part of town, of course. To be on the safe side, the Brit parked his car a few miles away from the bad neighborhood. He needed the exercise anyway. Paying no mind to the looks he was getting from the other customers, (who looked like they were planning on mugging the poor, rich looking Brit later) Arthur continued his shopping.

"I'm tellin' ya'll. That's him."

"Gurl, you crazy. There's no way."

"I dunno..."

"Go up to him and see."

"Naw, come with me."

The Brit couldn't help noticing some girls whispering from across the store and doing a poor job keeping from being heard. He ignored them and looked through more liquors.

"What's he doing now?" one female whispered.

"Just looking through some bottles," another female answered.

"Go over to him then," said the third female.

"One of ya'll come with me."

"Ugh, you are so scared. C'mon. We'll _all _go."

Arthur was getting rather annoyed with the girls' whispering**. **Who were they talking about? The Brit turned to the man a few feet away from him. The man who looked six foot tall was looking over some bottles. He felt he was being watched and turned to the Brit, giving him a hard and threatening look. Arthur blinked and quickly turned away. He turned to the other side seeing a man and a woman. The woman was holding a baby in her arms, flirting with the man. The man wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders and gave her a soft kiss. Strange for a family to be shopping at a liquor store... but they looked happy. Very happy. Arthur's eyes soften and turned away from the family. This was getting dangerous and emotional all at once to Arthur. He needed to get out of there.

"British boy? Is that you?"

Arthur blinked from that nickname and that familiar voice behind him.

_Wait a minute..._

Arthur turned his whole body around, seeing three hot girls before him. He blinked, looking at each of them. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Ms. Brandy? Ms. Shea and Ms. Shonda?" he said by surprise.

"Arthur!" the three girls squealed, and rushed over to him, giving him a huge hug and kissing his cheeks and lips.

"I told ya'll!" Brandy cried happily. "I told ya'll it was him!"

"Ah! Ladies! Ladies! Please!" the Brit cried, nearly dropping his basket when the girls were hugging and kissing him at the same time. He grew nervous, feeling the male customers staring, some looking shocked and others jealous at how the Brit was getting all this attention from the attractive girls. Arthur sighed with relief as the girls finally pulled away. He frowned when the girls giggled and admired their work. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was ruffled, and his cheeks and lips were covered with different colored lipstick. He sighed before fixing his hair and wiped his mouth with his hand to get the lipstick off. "Ah, I see you three will never change," he murmured.

"Arthur," Shonda said, "what the hell are you doing here?"

Arthur lifted a thick brow and shrugged. "Liquor shopping?" he said.

"No," Brandy said. "She means... what are you doing _here_?"

"We're surprised you're still in one piece, baby," Shea added. "You'd probably be butt ass naked once you first walk into this area."

Arthur blinked. "I was just told that they sell amazing alcohol here," he said. "My apartment was completely bare thanks to Kiku and Heracles."

The girls giggled.

"Well," Brandy chuckled, "you were drunk off your ass when you were dancing with us that night. They were just probably worried you'd go overboard again. Just like how you french kissed your friend... ow!" Brandy winced when Shea elbowed her.

The Brit rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "Yes, well..." he said. He looked down at the floor, remembering that night. He remembered the American stiffen shocked when their lips touched. Then he relaxed, kissing back.

"Is Alfred his name?" Shea asked no one in particular. "Ooh! That boy can daaaanceee!"

Shonda giggled. "He sho' can!"

"Yes," Arthur said. "He is rather popular at the Backyard Bar."

"I could tell," Shonda replied. "It looked like _everybody _wanted to get with him. Even Chamise... ow!" Shonda winced when Brandy elbowed her.

Arthur clenched the handle of the basket tighter hearing Chamise's name. "That's how it is when you're quite attractive," he murmured. "Not only through looks, but personality as well, I suppose..."

"Aw, you know you hot as hell too, Arthur," Shonda said. "Don't try and be all modest."

"Yeah," Shea agreed. "Who wouldn't wanna get with you?" The girls were in their fit of giggles again.

"I dunno," Arthur replied with a shrug. The Brit then got a horrifying image of Alfred kissing Chamise. Lying on top of her in bed, penetrating her over and over as she wrapped her brown legs around his waist, digging her nails into his back. Arthur shut his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. "Oh, blimey," he whispered.

"You okay, baby?" the Brit heard Brandy ask with concern.

Arthur sighed and opened his eyes, turning to the girls. "Yes, yes," he answered softly. "I just... haven't been feeling well. Just a headache, is all."

"Hold on. I think I got some aspirin," Shea said, digging into her small black purse.

"Oh, you're quite kind, but I'll be alright. Really."

"British boy," Brandy said, folding her arms, "do you have a headache or are you just on somethin'?"

"I beg your pardon?" the Brit asked, looking confused.

Brandy huffed, shook her head, and holding out a hand. Her golden bracelets jingled as she did this. She made an expression as if she was about to say, "duh." "You're shakin', boo! What's going on?"

"I'm..." Arthur looked down at his free hand, and was, in fact, trembling. One of the girls took the basket from his hand. "Please, I'm fine. I just..." The girls ignored him as they walked him to a nearby chair and made him sit down. Brandy kneeled beside him, placing a hand on his knee, and Shea and Shonda stood over him, each placing a hand on his shoulders.

"What's been going on, Arthur?" Brandy asked. "You look stressed outta your goddamn mind, boy. Is it because I brought up that kiss with you and your friend?"

Arthur stood silent, looking down at his basket filled with alcohol Shonda was holding. He was dying to rip one of those bottles open and drink himself silly.

"Honey, look," Brandy continued. "If that's how you swing, that's fine. Go ahead and date guys _and _girls. There ain't _nothing _wrong with you. Hell, I like both men and women, and my homegurls are still cool with me. Right ya'll?" Brandy turned to Shonda and Shea.

"Gurl, we _always _got your back," Shonda answered.

"We cool 'til the end," Shea agreed. "Know what I'm saying?"

"And guess what," Brandy said, turning back to the quiet Brit, "we got your back also. And I know your crew Kiku, Heracles, and Alfred feel the same way. So..."

Arthur heaved a shaky sigh from hearing the American's name.

"Arthur? Sweetie?"

_Where are you going? When are you coming back so I can tell you how much you mean to me? I fucking hate you so much, git, that I love you._

The Brit felt the quiet girls looking at each other then back at him.

"You know what?" Brandy said, squeezing the Brit's knee. "I think I know what you need. You need to come and hang with us tonight. And I know just the place."

"Brandy," Shonda said, sounding nervous.

"Now look. There's this club thing Chamise is hosting tonight and..."

"Gurl," Shea said, "I don't think he wanna be there."

"Ya'll, Arthur is our homeboy, now," Brandy said with a frown. "And I think he should _**really **_be there tonight."

"With all due respect, ladies," Arthur finally spoke, "I'm just not in the mood to go out tonight. Besides, I have work tomorrow, and-"

Brandy stood and grabbed Arthur's face, making him look at her. "Give me your address, Arthur. Wear something _really _nice, and we'll pick you up tonight at ten-thirty... _please_? .This. Trust me."

Arthur looked into Brandy's dark brown eyes. Well, hazel now. The Brit just realized she was wearing color contacts. Either way, she looked dead serious and determined. He then turned his eyes to the other two who looked doubtful and uncertain.

"Look at me, British boy," Brandy ordered.

Arthur blushed and turned back to her. "Uh, y-yes?" he stammered.

"We're gonna have fun tonight?"

"I... I suppose?" the Brit answered, not sounding too sure.

"Are we gonna have fun tonight?" she repeated louder with a smirk.

"Uh... y... yes. Yes, we are," the Brit answered louder, trying to nod his head from Brandy's tight hold.

"Address, please."

"Um... 2943 Downing Drive, Apartment 118."

Brandy blinked. "Pinewood Apartments?" she asked.

"Correct," the Brit answered. "Um.. Ms. Brandy? My face is getting numb."

"Okay, I know where that is. I have a college friend who lives there." She finally released his face. She held Arthur's face so hard, her hand prints were shaped on his redden face.

"Brandy," Shonda murmured. "Are you-"

"_Yeah_, I'm sure," Brandy said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like he's gonna be the only guy there!"

Arthur blinked.

"I don't think that's what Shonda meant, Brandy," Shea sighed, shaking her head.

"Tch! Gurl, they ain't even gonna notice him there," Brandy explained.

"Okay, see?" Shonda said, holding up her hands. "I _really _don't think you're getting what we're sayin', Brand'."

Shea nodded. "And I don't think this ain't the right way to-"

"Ya'll," Brandy cried. "He will thank me later. Stop worryin' over nothing." Brandy then took the shopping basket full of liquor from Shonda and turned to the Brit. "British boy, tonight... it's gonna be all about _you_. And to start it off, we're paying for your drinks."

Arthur blinked. "Oh, no, no," he cried, standing. "Ladies, this isn't-"

"Will you pay for my drinks?"

The three girls and Arthur turned to the person who spoke. It was a guy (one of the customers who was jealous of Arthur) wanting to get in on the action. The three glared at the man.

"Um," Brandy said, sounding annoyed, "did we say it was _your_ night, homie?"

"It can be, baby," the man replied, grinning.

"Well, is your name Arthur?" Shea asked.

"Naw, shortie. It's Ja-"

"No?" Brandy cut him off. "Then shut the hell up and buy your own damn _drank_!" The girls all rolled their eyes and turned back to Arthur. The Brit blinked and turned to the man with a shrug. The man turned his nose up at them and walked/pimped off.

"Like we were saying," Brandy continued, "you're gonna be our English King, and we gonna be your loyal, humble servants."

"Ladies," Arthur said, smiling softly and shaking his head. "I know you're trying to cheer me up, but this really isn't necessary."

"Yes it is, Arthur. You, Alfred, and the others made our night that night."

"She's right, Arthur," Shonda agreed. "Something about ya'll's vibes got us crunkin' hype that night! Hell, we ain't seen Chamise smile this much in so long. It was a miracle!"

"Let us return the favor," Shea said. "Please, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed and crossed his arms. "Ladies," he began.

"We'll put more makeup on you if you don't!" Brandy threaten.

"Oh, bugger! Fine!"

The girls giggled and in unison said in a British accent, "_Buuugger_!"

Arthur placed a palm to his face. "What have I gotten myself into?" he groaned.

**00000000**

"'It'll be fun.' 'You need a break, British boy,'" the Brit said to himself in the mirror, imitating Brandy's voice, and surprisingly doing a good job at it. "I need a fucking scotch and vodka. _That's _what I bloody need." He adjusted his red necktie, making sure it was nice and straight. He remembered the girls telling him to wear something _really _nice. Then later added to wear something black, so that way they all can match. The Brit didn't have many black outfits, so he threw together a nice dark gray button down shirt, tucked underneath his black slacks, with a matching black jacket to wear over. He felt he was over dressed. Not that it mattered. He just wanted to get all of this over with.

The King took another look at himself while fixing his hair. "Blimey... what _have _I gotten myself into?" he groaned. Just then, his cell phone went off in his bedroom. Knowing it was the girls, (since they were calling and texting him every 10 minutes) he sighed and rushed to his bedroom. He was sure he was going to be charged for so many text messages thanks to them. He walked over to his bed, snatched up his phone, and answered it. "I'm getting ready. Will you stop calling already?" the Brit whined.

"_Arthur-san? What are you talking about?"_

The Brit blinked. "Kiku?"

"_I was just checking up on you to see if you were okay from today."_

"Oh, that," Arthur chuckled before plopping his bottom on the soft mattress. "Yes, I'm alright. I didn't stick around after I put my two cents in. Anything interesting happened after I left?" The Brit could hear the small Asian chuckling on the other end.

"_Ludwig-san, Ivan-san, and Berwald-san had both Dennis-san and Jasper-san cornered to a wall and made them confess on what they said to everyone behind their backs," _Kiku replied. _"Feliks-san and Wang-san smacked them both in the back of their heads while others were throwing paper balls at them, saying bad words at them. Little did we know, Roderich-san was still at his office and heard the commotion."_

"That's not good," Arthur grinned.

"_Luckily, Dennis-san and Jasper-san told him to not get on the others, and that they take the blame. Berwald-san, however made them both confess on what they said about Roderich-san."_

"That's _definitely _not good," Arthur laughed. "Was it the one about his 'beauty mark' on his face?"

"_That's the one," _Kiku chuckled. _"Arthur-san, how did you know about all this?"_

The Brit shrugged. "I always seem to catch them both talking in private by dumb luck," he said. "I always knew they were troublesome wankers from the start. Did they get fired?"

"_That I did not stick around for," _the Asian answered. _"Roderich-san asked them both to come to his office. We all went home after that."_

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"_I believe so."_

Arthur turned to his clock on his night stand. The girls were going to be at his apartment in the next twenty minutes. He got off his bed and went to his closet to find his dress shoes.

"_Arthur-san," _the Asian finally spoke, _"did I catch you at a bad time?"_

"Hm? Oh, no," Arthur answered as he slipped on his shoes. "I'll be leaving in the next twenty minutes or so. Is there something wrong?"

"_Oh, no. I just remembered you saying earlier that you were getting ready. You are going out tonight?"_

"Um, yes. Do you remember Ms. Brandy and the other ladies? I'm going out to a bar or something."

"_Oh... really?"_

"Nothing special, really. They're just taking me out. It's their treat."

"_I see."_

Arthur blinked, noticing how Kiku's voice sounded a little disappointing. "Would you like to join us? I'm sure they wouldn't mind. Heracles as well."

"_No, thank you."_

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked sounding desperate. "They're forcing me to go out with them, and I don't want to be the only guy there."

"_...Why not ask Alfred-san?"_

"Ah... um..." the Brit stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

_-"Well, now that you know that I'm leaving town..."-_

"_You are aware that he will be going out of town this week, are you not?"_

Arthur nodded slowly. "I'm aware," he said. The Brit walked over to his light switch by the door and clicked on it before leaving the bedroom. He slowly walked down the hallway, adding, "We, um... we talked after work and-"

"_He does not know yet, does he?"_

Arthur sighed deeply on the phone and stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Kiku... I don't know why, but... it didn't feel like the right moment to say anything yet."

"_Why? What happened?"_

"I dunno. Before I could say anything, he got a call from someone. They were arguing about God knows what. He looked... upset, and afraid. I've never seen him like that. I just couldn't say it."

"_Arthur-san..."_

"Look, when he gets back, I will tell him then."

"_What if he never comes back?" _Kiku asked, sounding unsure.

"He _will _come back. Stop worrying."

"_Please try calling him again before he leaves, Arthur-san. When he is in a good mood."_

Arthur stood, deep in thought.

_Well, he's leaving before Friday. But when? Tomorrow? Wednesday? Thursday?_

"_Call him tonight," _the Asian said, as if he was reading the Brit's mind.

"Fine, fine! I will!"

_-knock-knock... KNOCK-KNOCK-knock-knock...KNOCK-KNOCK-_

Arthur looked up at his door, hearing someone knocking as if they were trying to make a beat of a song.

_The bloody hell?_

"_What is that?" _Kiku asked.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "The 'she-cavalry'," he answered. "I better go and let them in before they break my door down."

"_Very well. But remember what I said."_

"Right, right. Will do."

"_Good luck."_

The Brit slid his palm down against his face in frustration. "I'm going to need it." He hung up and rushed to the door. He could hear the girls behind the door giggling and pounding the door louder. "Alright! Alright!" he cried as he answered. "Ladies, please not so loud. I have neighbors you know." The Brit blushed as Brandy, Shonda, and Shea let themselves in while cat calling, and checking out his attire.

"Mmm... look at _you_!" Brandy cried as she reached over, smoothing down his pants. "Tryin' to out dress us! Sweet and _sexy _thang!"

"He's the King alright!" Shonda agreed.

"You GO, boy!" Shea cried with a giggle.

"Please," the Brit groaned, rolling his eyes. "This is just something I threw together. Nothing fancy really."

"Yeah, right," Brandy teased, nudging him. "Well... how do we look, your highness?"

Arthur turned to the girls who were wearing all black formal dresses, each with a different style, some shimmer and some solid, shaping their bodies well, and with little skin and cleavage showing. The Brit didn't want to lie. "You all look... stunning," he said with a soft blush. And he meant it. They were very stunning looking young ladies. The girls squealed and was getting ready to attack him. Arthur held up his hands. "AH-AH-AH! No makeup! Remember?" Instead, each of them gave him a big hug. It wasn't often the Brit would get this kind of attention. It felt really nice to him.

"I know we got here a little early," Brandy said, "but we were too anxious to give you your present."

Arthur blinked. "Present? For me?"

"Yeah, you, silly!" Brandy turned to Shea.

Shea giggled and went outside. She came back seconds later with a medium sized golden box with a big ribbon on top. "For you, your highness," she said, holding out the box to him.

Arthur looked hesitant, but finally took the box. "What is it?" he asked, shaking it slightly.

"Open it!" Shonda said excitedly.

With a shrug, the Brit opened the lid and looked inside. "Oh, my," he said with a chuckle. "This is..." Arthur pulled out a golden plastic crown (obviously from the costume store down town).

"All hail King Arthur! British Empire! WHOOOO!" Brandy cheered.

Arthur broke into a huge smile, embarrassed. "You girls are... insane," he said.

Shonda walked over to him and took the crown from him. She carefully and formally placed the crown on top of his head and gave him a curtsy. "Your highness," she said. The other two gave him a quick curtsy and cheered.

Arthur laughed, blushing more. "Oh, blimey," he said as he balanced the crown on top of his head.

"Your chariot awaits, your highness," Brandy said as she opened the door for him.

"Please tell me you didn't rent me a limo," Arthur said, blinking by surprise.

"Psh! Oh, hell, naw! You know how expensive those things cost? It's all about the Honda Accord, baby!"

Shea grabbed Arthur's matching jacket off the couch and slipped it on for him.

"Really, this is all too much," the Brit said as Shea and Shonda took him by each arm.

"Boy, it's all good," Shonda said. "We want this to be a special night for you and you only!"

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay for anything tonight? I am the gentleman here."

"But you're our king," Shea replied. "And we're gonna spoil you rotten!"

Brandy took Arthur's house keys from him and locked up for him. "Like I told you," she said with a grin, "you gonna thank me later!"

"I'm thankful enough as it is," Arthur said as he was being escorted off.

**00000000**

"Am I suppose to thank you for _this_?" Arthur cried out in a panic, looking out the window and seeing where they were.

"Arthur," the girls whined.

"No," Arthur growled with his arms folded in the front passenger seat. "Take me home this instant!"

"It's just a club," Brandy said.

"It's a fucking strip club!"

"Okay. And?"

"An all-male _strip club_?"

"Arthur, we told you it doesn't matter that you're gay," Shonda said in the back of the car.

"That's not the fucking point!" the Brit cried. "It's an _ALL-MALE _strip club! Things like this are mostly for the ladies!"

"Guys come in here all the time," Shea said while fixing the crown on the Brit's head.

"Oh, _really_? How bloody many?"

"Like ten or eleven."

Arthur turned around from his seat and looked at Shea hard.

Shea blinked. "Two or three...?" she said uneasy, moving her brown eyes from side to side nervously.

"Oh, it'll be a'ight, boo," Brandy said as she got out of the car. Shonda and Shea followed after. Brandy went around to Arthur's side and opened the door for him. Arthur stayed put, pouting.

"Please?" Brandy begged.

"No," the Brit snapped.

"We already paid for the V.I.P. passes, Arthur!"

"Too bad. I'm not going! There is absolutely _nothing_ you can bloody do to make me go in there!" Arthur sat back in the car, crossing his ankles, and looking straight ahead. He glared at the flashing neon lights on the building reading ICOM (International Club of Men). Arthur shivered suddenly at the name and turned his head away from it.

"Didn't I tell you this was a bad idea?" the Brit heard Shonda say.

"This wasn't a good idea from the start," Shea agreed. "Let's just take him to a Denny's or somethin'!"

"Ya'll, come on," Brandy whined. "We came this far! He _needs _to be here. I don't want him to be mopin' at his apartment all night drinking gin and juice with nothing on but his nice white briefs and having no one to grope him."

Arthur frowned and popped his head out of the car. "I can hear you!" he cried, his cheeks flushed red.

Brandy turned to him. "You're not coming inside?"

"A _billion _times no." Arthur slipped his head back in the car and sat back in his seat once again.

"Well, you know what this means, right?" the Brit heard Brandy asking.

"Sticking with plan B?" Shonda replied.

"Plan B."

_Plan B? What the devil are they up to?_

The girls were quiet for a few seconds. The Brit was listening in on several vehicles pulling up, chattering people (mostly ladies), and the booming noise of the music inside the club. This was insane. He didn't want to be here. He should be focusing on calling Alfred and having him meet somewhere before he leaves this week. The git would probably get a good laugh if he ever found out where the girls took him.

"Hello?" the Brit heard Brandy say outside. "Leroy? ...yeah it's me, boo! What up? ...Yep, we're here! Our special guest is ready, but they're a little shy." She laughed. "I know, rite? Could you bring it over here instead? ...A'ight! We'll wave at you so you can find us. ...Okay! Byyyeee!"

The Brit blinked wondering who this Leroy person was. What were they scheming?

"Leroy was that fine fella who gave you that private lap dance right?" the Brit heard Shea asked. The Brit's eyes widen with fear.

"Yep!" Brandy said with a giggle. "He is _fiiinnne_! He gave me a discount on the ICOM Special V.I.P. deal. Good for ninety days!"

"Well, my birthday is coming up next month," Shea said as if trying to give Brandy a hint.

"Gurl, you know I got you!" Brandy laughed.

_What the bloody hell is the Special V.I.P. deal? What the hell am I doing here?_

"OHH!" Brandy cried out happily. "There they go! There they go! OVER HERE, YA'LL!"

Just when Arthur was about to ask the girls what they were up to, he paused. "The bloody hell?" From afar he saw a huge chair with red velvet cushions levitating over the parked cars, getting closer and closer. Moments later he saw who was carrying it. It was four extremely buff and oily men wearing nothing but bow ties each with a different color, short sleeves with black cufflinks, bikinis each with a different color, and black combat boots. "Oh, no... oh no, no, no, no!" Arthur whimpered with his voice cracking. The buff men sat the huge chair down. Arthur watched nervously through the windshield.

Brandy walked over to one of the men who had braids in his hair, giving him and hug! "Thank you for doing this, Leroy," she said.

"My pleasure, Mistress Brandy," Leroy said with a sweet smile as he rubbed his hands together and having his pecs flex.

Arthur paled when he saw that. "Oh, bugger. I gotta get out of here."

"So who's the lucky girl?" Leroy asked, turning to Shea and Shonda.

"Uh, actually," Shonda said. "It's a lucky guy."

Leroy paused and blinked. The other three beef cakes turned to each other. Leroy leaned his head forward slightly, looking up at Brandy as if he was unsure. "Lucky guy...?" he asked carefully.

"Yes," Brandy answered and turned to Arthur in the car, pointing. "Right in there, gentlemen."

Arthur's face was boiling red as he sunk in the car seat deeper and deeper, the crown slipping off his head. The Brit could hear the men laughing. He never felt more humiliated.

"Whatever Mistress Brandy and the other mistresses want then," Arthur heard Leroy say.

_They're still going through with this? Are you fucking kidding me?_

"What's the master's name," the Brit heard one of the guys ask.

"Arthur," Shea answered. "Tonight, we wish of you to refer to him as King Arthur. Not Master Arthur. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," the men said in unison.

"Someone, kill me," Arthur murmured before he crawled to the driver side of the car to make a run for it. Just as he opened the door, he was greeted with a pair of size thirteen boots. Arthur swallowed hard as his eyes trailed up at bronzed muscle legs, a red bikini crotch, abs, pecs, and a handsome, smiling face. "Please kill me," the Brit repeated.

"King Arthur, I presume?" the buff servant said with a small bow as his long, blond braids covered his eyes. "ICOM member number 34, Joshua at your service."

Arthur sat up, holding up a hand. "Look," he said with a nervous chuckle. "This was all a _big _misunderstanding. You see, I thought this was just going to be a... normal club. Not a strip jo-AHH!" Arthur made a high pitch shriek when he felt a strong hand cupped his shoulder. He turned around, coming face to face with Leroy. Arthur was sweating bullets. "Listen, I just wanted a bloody scotch!" he cried out desperately.

"We have plenty of that inside, my lord," Leroy said with a chuckle.

"B-but..."

"King Arthur, it looks like these ladies went through a lot to do all of this for you. The least you can do is have a good time and be thankful that you have some great friends."

Arthur blinked. "Well," he stammered, "yes, but..."

"Besides, if you don't want to be touched by our fellow dancers, just say so."

Arthur sighed and turned to Brandy and the girls outside through the windshield. They were grinning with hope in their eyes and nodding a yes to him. He turned back to Leroy. "And your bar carries _everything _that could get me as drunk as possible?" he asked.

"Any possible drink you can think of, my lord," Leroy answered.

"Gin?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Moonshine?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Bastard on the beach?"

"The best, my lord."

The Brit turned away from Leroy, deep in thought. "...off we go, then," he finally said.

Leroy chuckled and moved to the side so the King could get out. "Yes, my lord," he said.

Arthur got out the car as he heard the girls cheering excitedly. "Let's get this over with," he said as he sat on the huge chair.

Leroy went over to him, placing the crown back on his head. "King Arthur," he said as he and the other three men kneeled before the Brit, "welcome to ICOM." Leroy and the others gathered on either side of the chair. In unison they knelt and took a hold of the handles. On the count of three, they easily lifted the chair with Arthur sitting on it. Brandy and the other girls continued cheering.

"You won't be sorry, Arthur," Brandy said. "I promise!"

"Yes, yes," Arthur sighed as he was being carried off. He placed his elbow on the chair rest and rested his chin on his knuckle. "How troublesome."

* * *

**I guess being on a short Hiatus kinda paid off for me. I'm happy I managed to get two chapters done at once. I felt like I could keep going with this chapter, but again, I felt like this is a good stopping point for now. Hope you guys are still enjoying it. Stay tuned. **

**Be safe!**

**-Cry**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Greetings from the author: **__Hey, guys! Long time, I know. But you are in for a wonderful treat! There's gonna be more chapters coming up soon, and this time it's not gonna take a __**month or two **__long. As far as I can calculate, I may have three chapters worth of this fanfic to post up, but I'm still working and struggling on the last one (it's not the __**last-LAST **__one just to make that clear). After these are uploaded, I wanted to try out something new, and I wanted to get some opinions. I'll tell you all about it in the later chapters. _

_Special thanks once again to __**Dark Miko18 **__for looking over this chapter. __**Koifish**__, __**Pyro**__, and __**Rainbow Ookami**__, if you guys wanna proof read the other chapters, be sure to get in touch with me before 10/11/10. If not, I'll let __**Miko **__proof read the rest. First come, first serve… or more like first come, first proof read. Derp! _

_**Axis Powers Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (heh… I said first come :B)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 17)~**

**00000000**

"Oh my, god! Who is that?"

"Dunno, but he's kinda cute!"

"Wait a minute. Since when they have guys sitting in the V.I.P. chair?"

"Maybe he's gay!"

"Shh! He's coming."

Arthur leaned against the arm rest as he was being carried to the entrance of the strip club. The closer they got to the building the more he grew nervous. He hoped Alfred was having more fun than he. Nothing but stares and whispers from other people were noticed. _All _females.

_Why do women fail miserably at whispering to themselves?_

"How you doing up there, King Arthur?"

The Brit leaned over the chair, hearing the question being asked by none other than the cheesing Brandy herself. "If I tell you how I really felt," the Brit murmured, "I would probably no longer be your... _homeboy_."

The curvy, brown skinned diva giggled, swatting her jewelry covered hand. "Boy, you so crazy!" she chuckled with a wink.

The Brit arched a bushy brow. "_I'm_ crazy?"

The V.I.P. chair finally came to a stop. Arthur turned up front, seeing a huge classical, medieval style doors painted gold. In the middle were black cursive initials I.C. on one side and O.M. on the other. There were two handsome men standing on either side. Both were shirtless, oily, with red leotard tights underneath oddly puffy shorts, and brown highly outdated suede boots. Each had a golden trumpet resting against their leather belts.

Arthur blinked and leaned over the chair to look down at the girls. "This _is_ the year 2010 right?" he asked then turned back to the half naked men. "Look at them! They're freezing their nipples out here. How much do they pay you blokes?"

"Arthur," Shonda cried with a frown. "I mean, I know you're king and all, but you ain't gotta be a bitchy one!"

Arthur made an insulted noise in the back of his throat, followed by a flushed face. "I am _not_ bitchy," he argued.

"Well, stop being a princess," Shea teased.

The Brit blushed deeper, gripping the soft cushioned arm rest.

"Good day to thee, my beloved mistresses!" Greeted a cheery voice below the grouchy king.

The Brit looked down, seeing another buffed male wearing a similar attire like the door guards. On his head was a Musketeer hat with an oversized white feather.

"ICOM member number 59," the gentleman began, "Carlos at your _most_ humble service." The handsome creature removed his hat and bowed before the girls, revealing nice short brown curly locks.

Arthur rolled his eyes when he heard Brandy and the others giggling like mad school girls.

"'Lo! How heaven's pearl shine down upon thee. But... this is the _mightiest _treasure of all..." Carlos then turned, referring to the _special _guest. "Your maje... oh." The greeter nearly paled when realizing the mistress was a mister.

Arthur arms folded, staring down at the greeter hard, warning, "Say it, and I'll snatch it completely off... and I'm not talking about that _ridiculous _hat on your head."

Carlos chuckled, slipping his hat back on. "Heh. What's happening, homes?" he asked the Brit, his accent going from British to Hispanic.

Arthur could hear the four men who were carrying him snickering. "Pipe down," he hissed. Surprisingly, they all did, in unison replying a, "Yes, my lord." before the king. Arthur blinked.

_Like trained dogs..._

"Sorry for his behavior, Carlos," Brandy said, approaching him and holding our her hand. "He had a _long_, stressful day."

The Hispanic smiled, happily taking the giggly girl's hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "Ah... Mistress Brandy!" he said huskily "_Apologia aceptado_. I always keep my cool whenever I see your ebony beauty." He placed another kiss on her hand. "My goddess." Another kiss. "My Sauda."(*) Another. "Empress of the night." And a longer one with a soft moan.

"Oooohh!" Brady squealed while fanning herself with her free hand. "_Gracias_, baby!"

"Could I get you a beverage down there while you're devouring her, Mr. Carlos," the king blared out, looking annoyed.

Carlos turned back to Arthur, slipped off his hat once again, and bowed before him. "Will his majesty accept the apology of this rude greeting?" he asked, now back in character.

The Brit turned his nose, crossed his legs, and rest his chin on his palm. "I rather you kiss my-"

"Arthur," the girls warned.

"Shoes," the king finished.

Number 59 bowed deeper. "As you wish, m'lord!"

_Wait. What?_

"What?" Arthur cried. Before he could react, the carriers lowered Arthur low enough for Carlos to walk over to him and took a hold of his ankles. The Brit's eyes widen in horror as he watched the man placed a kiss on each tip of his shoe. The girls squealed and laughed.

"Ohh!" Shonda cried. "Now me!"

"Yes, mistress," Carlos answered. He walked away from the shocked Brit and went over to the spazzing woman. He placed his hands and knees on the ground, leaning in, and placing a kiss on her open toe shoes. "Such beautiful feet, my Mistress."

Arthur's eye twitched, staring down at his feet. "Please tell me that did not just happen," he said with a cracked voice.

Brandy made a humorous noise in the back of her throat with her hands on her hips. "Duh," she said. "It's their policy, King Arthur. They must obey to each and every guest here, no matter how crazy and outrageous their demands are."

"Any type of sex is prohibited, your highness," said Leroy.

"Unless it's outside work, your highness," another member underneath the king added.

"Okay, I didn't want to know that!" the blushing Brit cried, plugging both ears with his index fingers.

"Your majesty," Carlos said, bowing to him once again, "is thou ready to be dazzled by tonight performances by our talented dancers?"

Arthur winced, feeling the words "no" getting ready to escape his lips. He looked down at the girls who were smiling big and jumping with anticipation. "Very... well," he answered slowly.

_It will be just this one time. Then I'll burn my clothes when I get back home._

Carlos bowed once more as the throne carriers raised the king back in the air once again. The door guards silently bowed to Arthur before opening both huge doors before him.

Inside, the music crescendoed in the king's eardrums. The atmosphere was lively. There was coolness in the air, yet a comfortable temperature. Red club lights were the only thing shining down on people. Cigarettes, alcohol, and club smoke filled the air, as well as different kinds of women's fragrances. The king thought he would pass out from inhaling so many at once. Women were _everywhere_, at the bar, on the dance floor, some hanging over the stage with a wad full of cash for the strippers. Most women were tipsy, others wasted, a few making out in a corner, women who were getting lap dances in the private room with only a sheer curtain barely hiding their privacy, women who had some of the club members strapped tight on a leather cross shaped mattress wearing gag balls and blind folds. The mistresses would punish the men, leaving red marks with the sound of leather popping against skin. Arthur cringed when one member's loin cloth covered crotch was smacked a few times.

The king leaned over the chair and turned to the girls."'Oi," he yelled out over the loud music. "Can we go, now?"

"Sorry, can't hear ya," Brandy yelled out back with a smirk on her face.

The Brit frowned at the girl. Just then, two trumpets played a loud fanfare in perfect harmony in between him.

Arthur winced, covering his ears. "What the devil?" he cried. "Are you trying to make me go deaf?"

The women grew quiet and turned their attention to the special guest. Arthur tugged nervously on his collar, hearing the commotion dying down. Suddenly, a bright spot light shined down on Arthur revealing him to the giggling and whispering girls. The king sunk lower in his chair and covered his face with a sweaty palm. He _really _wanted to die.

Carlos appeared in front of crowd, holding out a scroll. "Hear ye! Hear ye!" he announced in his medieval accent. "Now entering, tonight's ICOM V.I.P. guest of honor: King Arthur!"

"I hate my life," the king whimpered as the crowd cheered. He remained shielding his face as the men carried him to his reserved spot: right up front in the center of the catwalk stage. He watched as the four men bowed to him and walked off. "I actually prefer sitting in the back, please," he bellowed out. He grumbled as the four continued walking.

"What you talkin' 'bout?" Brandy cried going over to him. "This is the best seat in the house, baby! All eyes will be on _you_!"

"Let's hope that will be the _only _thing on me!" The Brit spoke too soon. He nearly jumped out of his throne as strong hands were placed on each of his shoulders. He smacked both hands off him and turned to the intruders who evaded his bubble.

"King Arthur! Welcome to ICOM!" two men greeted in unison.

The Brit blinked, seeing the two men before him. They were twins. Handsome, pretty boys. Not as beefy as the other members. One had dark hair in a mullet style, and the other with the same style but with lighter hair. Multiple pierces and tattoos from the head down. Arthur was trying his best to avoid looking at their pierced nipples. Instead, he folded his arms and kept his eyes on the neglected silver dance pole on stage between them. Seconds later, a male stripper crawled over to the pole and began grinding on it.

Arthur growled and shield his eyes with his hands. "Does _anyone _work here who's not dress like when they were first born?" the king muttered. The Brit heard the girls giggling over him and one of them straightening his crown on his head again.

"King Arthur," the dark haired man spoke, bowing. "ICOM member number 45, Ying at your service."

"Your highness," said the lighter hair man with a bow. "ICOM member number 70, Yang here. I await your every command."

Arthur pulled his hand away from his eyes and turned to the two. "Forty-five and Seventy?" he said with confusion. "You're twins. Why aren't your numbers close together like 45 and 46 or 69 and 70?"

"I applied here two years after my brother did, my lord," Yang answered with an adorable smile.

"Because you're inseparable I assume?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

Both twins blinked by surprise. "How did you know?" they asked in unison.

The king stared at the beauties for a few seconds. He then reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a fancy ink pen. He mashed down the top, making the ballpoint come out, and held it out to them. "Right, well my first command," he began, "is that you stab me with this. Kill me as _quickly _and _painlessly _as possible."

Brandy snatched the fancy pen and smacked the king in the back of the head.

"Ow!" the king winced.

Shonda giggled and fixed his crown again.

"Isn't there anything you wish of us that doesn't involve death, my lord?" Ying asked.

"Perhaps rubbing your feet?" Yang added. "Serving you the best organic fruits?"

"Run you a relaxing, hot bath filled with rose petals at the sauna and spa room?"

"Okay, just pause right there," the king said, holding up his hand. "So you mean to tell me... minus sex... or death, you'll obey my every command? No matter how _horrendous _it may be?"

"Yes, my lord," the twins answered with a bow.

The Brit placed a hand underneath his chin, rubbing it slightly. He lifted a bushy brow. "Slap each other until I say stop," he ordered.

"Arthur!" Brandy cried. Shonda and Shea could only laugh.

"Yes, my lord," the twins said in unison. Both Asians turned to each other, exchanging hard smacks to the faces. In the red lit room, it was hard to tell if their cheeks were starting to bruise.

Arthur couldn't believe it.

_If only the git was this loyal._

"Stop, please."

The twins obeyed. "Will there be anything else, sire?" they both asked formally.

The Brit pointed at Brandy. "Lick her ears until I say stop," he commanded.

"Yes, my lord," the twins replied.

The girls giggled as Brandy placed a hand to her mouth.

"Oh, mah gawd! Arthur!" Brandy squealed excitedly as the twins approached her.

"Stop."

The twins stopped where they were. Arthur grinned. He was enjoying this.

Shonda and Shea laughed, pointing at a fuming Brandy.

Brandy pouted. "Arthur, you ass!"

"Charmed," the Brit teased with a wink. He turned back to the twins. "I want you blokes to fetch me a scotch. No ice. And whatever my mistresses will have. And be quick about it."

"Yes, my lord." The twins bowed to the king and turned their attentions to the girls.

Arthur sighed and turned back to the stage performer. A few crazed women squealed, stuffing a fist full of paper money down the man's g-string while he was humping his groin in the air.

"Jesus," the king gasped as he turned his head away. He turned his attention to Brandy and the others instead, but something was wrong. Brandy was having and argument with some guy who was dressed normally. He didn't look like an ICOM member. He looked too small to be one. The king watched as Brandy grab the man by the shirt, yelling in his face. The twins, Shonda, and Shea, meanwhile, tried to calm the angry girl down.

"I'm just saying," the king heard Brandy say, "when you _accidentally _bump into someone, just say 'I'm sorry'."

"I don't have to tell you shit, bitch," the angry man cried, trying to snatch his shirt off Brandy's grasp.

"Say what, now?" the three girls cried out in unison.

"Guys, please," Ying said.

"Try to remain calm," Yang finished.

Arthur didn't like where this was going. Finally, he hopped out of his throne and walked over to the commotion. "Ladies," he cried. "What the bloody hell's going on?" The three girls turned to Arthur, all talking angrily at once. The Brit held up his hands, yelling over the girls. "Alright! Shut up!" The girls quieted down. "Miss Brandy? What happened?"

"Well, this... _gentleman_," Brandy began while rolling her neck with an attitude, "literally rammed into me and made me fall. He didn't say sorry or _nuthin_', Arthur!"

"All he said was, 'Watch where you're going,'" Shea added with her nose turned up.

"He didn't even asked if she was okay," Shonda spoke.

The Brit turned to the small man, still being held captive by Brandy. He blinked. "Wait a minute," he murmured. Arthur stared at the man with narrowed eyes, feeling he recognized him from somewhere. The club lights then changed from red to blue. The Brit somewhat had a better look at him. He stood somewhere close to his height with ruffled, short hair. Arthur was certain it was blond. But the one thing about the man that Arthur recognized right away was the man's glare. It _had _to be him. "Aren't you... the waiter at Café Lindbergh?" the king asked.

The angry man finally freed himself. "What if I am, you fuck?" he growled, glaring at the Brit hard.

Arthur blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he cried. "Sir, I have no idea what's gotten your _knickers _in a twist, but it would be wise of you to apologize to these ladies-"

"You want me to apologize? Fine!" The angry waiter turned to Brandy. "I'm sorry for bumping into you! Happy now?"

"I'd be _more _happy if you apologize to Arthur also," Brandy said, crossing her arms.

"What for? I can't help if he's a fucking limey," the waiter replied harshly.

"Why are you being an asshole?" Shonda cried. "Just apologize to him!"

"I don't have time for this crap! Just leave me the fuck alone!" He turned his back to them, walking toward the exit.

"Okay, you know what?" an enranged Brandy cried, trying to remove her earrings and charging toward him. The twins pulled her back.

"Miss Brandy, just let it go," Arthur said. "As long as he apologized to you."

"He didn't sound sincere," Brandy cried. "Not only that! He also insulted you!"

"Ah, come now! What difference does it make? He apologized to _you_. Sincere or not. We really shouldn't let one little mishaps ruin our night. And aren't you're suppose to help me have a good time?"

Brandy watched the man leave and turned back to Arthur. She sighed and smacked her full puckered, glossy lips "Yeah, I guess so," she answered sadly.

"Why, Miss Brandy! I'm not convinced at all." The king smiled and turned to Ying. "You. I command you to press your face against her breast until I say stop."

Ying bowed. "Yes, your highness."

Shonda and Shea couldn't control their laughter.

Brandy yelped and tried to back away. The youngest twin grabbed her by the shoulders so she wouldn't escape. "Ying! No! I'm ticklish there!" the girl cried desperately.

Number 45, without hesitation, pressed his face on Brandy's cleavage, making suckling noises. The ebony's oversized jugs jiggled against Ying's face while he moaned loudly. Brandy was in a fit of giggles, and her legs were giving out on her. She was so loud, she could probably be heard from all across the room. Yang, luckily kept her upright and held her close to keep her from falling.

Arthur grinned. He _really _was enjoying this. He held up his hand. "Alright, Ying. I think she learned her lesson," he ordered.

Ying pulled away and bowed before the king. Brandy's giggles died down and was replaced with small pants. Yang chuckled, patting her shoulder.

Brandy nodded patting his hand in return. "Whoo," she panted with a sigh. "Thank you, baby..."

"Anytime, my mistress," Yang answered.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the king said. "That will be all. Oh! Just don't forget my scotch."

The twins bowed to them and walked over to the bar.

"Arthur, you are something else," Shonda said with a laugh.

"Oh, don't worry," Brandy said, pointing at the king. "We gonna get you later tonight."

Arthur winced. "You're not going to have them lick my toes are you?"

"Ah, nooo, baby! Remember when I told you that you'll thank me later?"

"Um..." the king blinked. "Wait, so this isn't it?"

"It's something better!" Brandy answered with a wink. "You'll see."

"I don't think I want to."

King Arthur was curious about this present the girls kept going on about. If the club wasn't the surprise then what was? Aside from that, why would the angry waiter come to a place like a strip club? Was he applying for a job? Why would he if where he was working now paid the employees well? Unless he got fired. It didn't make sense. If Arthur was the manager of this club he _definitely _wouldn't hire him. Not because he lacked muscles, but because of that attitude of his. How did he managed to get hired at Café Lindbergh, the Brit wondered?

"Why would he be here?" the Brit thought out loud.

"Why who would be here?" Shonda asked.

"Oh." Arthur turned his attention to Shonda and the girls. "That waiter. I was wondering why he was here."

"So you've met him before," Brandy said while moving side to side, in rhythm with the hype music. "Who is he?"

"I don't know. Just some waiter at Café Lindbergh. He had that same death glare like last time. _Extremely _rude, and messed up my order. _Twice_. And I think he purposely added too much pepper in my blasted soup."

Shea shrugged with a chuckle. "I guess _anybody _could show up," she replied. "Dunno how true it is, but there were rumors going around that Justin Bieber was here one time."

"What?" Shonda cried. "He's like what? Eight?"

"Hey, I wouldn't be surprised," Brandy said with a cackle. "Anything's possible at ICOM."

"Anything, huh?" Arthur said, chuckling and thinking to himself how weird it would be if Kiku came to a place like this. Or Feliciano. They wouldn't last two seconds, the Brit was sure. Alfred on the other hand probably wouldn't mind. The Brit just can't picture a stripper giving him a lap dance and grinding against the git. Arthur winced at the thought. Where the hell was that scotch?

Finally, on cue, the twins returned with their drinks. Yang walked over to the king and handed his scotch. "And a scotch, no ice for you, my lord," he said with a half bow.

The Brit happily took it. "Thank you number 71," he said.

"It's 70, your highness," Yang corrected him.

"Right, right. Whatever." Arthur rolled his eyes before placing his lips against the glass, welcoming the strong alcohol in his parched mouth. During mid-drink he though he felt something lightly tapped his shoulder. The girls in front of him suddenly snickered and snorted.

"Gurl... is that...?" Brandy asked.

"Oh my gawd!" Shonda giggled.

Arthur pulled his drink away, taking a big swallow before asking, "What the devil is wrong with you three?" The king turned to the twins who were looking away with grins on their faces. That's when he noticed a hint of red on his left shoulder. "What is..." he picked the tiny item off his shoulder and held it up. The king's eyes widen and trembled with fear. The girls laughter increased as Arthur freaked out and violently flung a red g-string across the room. "THE KING DOES NOT APPROVE!" was heard bellowing all across the strip club.

**00000000**

"Arthur!" Brandy whined. "It's freezing out here!"

"I'll live," the king muttered before taking a sip of his scotch.

"The boys miss you in here," Shonda informed. "Come back inside!"

"They'll live!"the king snapped. "Go and have your fun if it's cold out here. I'm staying."

After the g-string incident, the traumatized king left the building and took his drink with him. For the past five minutes he was standing outside the V.I.P. doorway standing between the silent door guards. He had his back turned to them and avoiding eye contact... meaning their erect nipples... and other areas. The girls had their heads poked out in the doorway, begging the man to come back inside. Over and over the Brit refused.

Why did the girls talk him into this? _How _did they talk him into this? This was not his thing. Half naked beefy men? Lap dances? More muscles than the Englishman could count! If he wanted nice, oily skin pressed against his, he would have ask the git Alfred. The Brit sighed, wondering what that burger eating freak was doing right now. Packing for his trip, perhaps? He wanted to see him. He missed hearing his voice.

_I miss the git's loud obnoxious voice? That's a first._

"Arthur, you're making a big deal out of nothing," the king heard Brandy whine some more. "It's only..." There was a small snicker. "...underwear."

"It was a g-string, Miss Brandy! And it landed on me! Meanwhile, He-man is roaming around the club with their 'third leg' dangling out in the breeze! I'm not sticking around to see a dancing tonker!"

"It's a strip club, Arthur."

"An _all male _strip club! We've been through this!"

"Well, if ya gonna be like that, _your highness_," the king heard Brandy say and her high heels clomping loudly toward him, "I'm taking your throne."

"Fine," the Brit replied with a shrug before pulling off his crown and holding it out at the girl from behind. He took another sip of his scotch. The former king felt the crown slip from his fingers, hearing angry clomping steps from Brandy's shoes clomping away, and the door opening by the door guards.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Come on, ya'll."

The Brit heard the door slowly closing behind him and hearing one of the girls asked what the hell a tonker was.

Finally. Freedom. Now the Brit can enjoy his amazing scotch. The bartender had great taste in alcohol. Arthur would give them that. Unfortunately, his glass was flat empty, and the ex-king wanted more.

Arthur cursed under his breath and hesitantly turned to the two door guards. "Um..." he stammered, looking in between them to avoid staring, "I, um..."

"What is it that you desire, master?" the mixed skin tone door guard to Arthur's left asked. He remained motionless, staring straight ahead.

"Um, right. Well, could it be possible if one of you could fetch me another scotch?"

Arthur nearly flinched as the darker skinned tone door guard to his right casually walked over to him and took his glass, followed by a bow.

"Yes, master," the guard answered formally.

The Brit chuckled nervously as he held up a hand. "Look, you two don't have to act all so formal. Really."

"It's our policy to treat every guest with the highest mannerism and fine service, my lord."

"Right," the Brit sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He shivered a bit from the chilly air. "But don't you grow tired of it after a while?"

Suddenly, the handsome door guard broke into a huge smile, amazing all white teeth making him twice as beautiful. The other door guard behind him hunched over slightly, laughing.

"Maaan," the brown skinned member chuckled, now out of character, "with so many fine ladies here every night? Hell naw!"

"Plus the pay is _dope_!" the other member by the door explained. "Even if our boss makes us wear crazy shit like this, it's well worth it, man! Know what I'm saying?"

The ICOM member who was holding the Brit's glass held out his free hand. "Demarcus."

The Brit took his hand and shook it. He wince slightly from the man's amazing, tight grip.

Demarcus gestured his head over to the mixed skinned guard behind him. "And that's my homeboy Ray."

"S'up, man?" Ray replied, lifting his head once in greet.

"Hello there," the Brit said with a nod. "I'm Arthur. And _please_... just Arthur."

"Yo, man. Out of curiosity," Demarcus began with a chuckle, "those fine ladies you're with? Now, I ain't judging your sexuality or anything, but um... which way _do _you swing?"

The Englishman blinked as a hint of red adorned his face. "Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat. "I do believe... possibly... both? I not too long discovered that I have feelings for men. I'm just not used to..." The Brit held out his hands gesturing Demarcus' physique. "..._this _much!"

Demarcus laughed. "It's all good," he said. "So your lady friends talked you into coming here to accept your fate?"

Ray laughed out at that question.

"Most likely," the Brit murmured. "They told me they had a bigger surprise in store for me, but I'm bloody scared to figure out what it is. I shouldn't be here. I have other things I should worry about, but I didn't want to disappoint them."

"You're disappointing them for not coming back inside," Demarcus explained.

"Yes, yes."

"Well, what other things should you worry about instead of being here, man?"

Arthur blushed, staring down at Demarcus hideous shoes. "I need to talk to someone. They're going out of town and-"

"Someone?" Demarcus said, grinning. "He or a she? If you're happy being bisexual, Arthur, don't be ashamed to say who they are."

"Alright, alright. It's a _guy _who works with me. I realized that I love him, but he's going out of town. I have no clue when he'll return, and I don't know when it's the right moment to tell him that I love him."

_Am I a nutter? Why am I telling my problems to complete strangers? _(*)

"If he's leaving soon, don't you think you should call him like right now?" Ray suggested.

"Yep," Demarcus agreed. "You'll never know when you'll get that chance again, man. Hell, if he loves you back, then maybe he's the one. Know what I'm sayin'? There's love for everybody out there, man. Gay. Straight. Psh, don't matter. No one should be alone."

Arthur blinked.

_-"You two should never give up on each other. You'll never know when you two may need each other one day. No one should ever be alone..."-_

Arthur reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his cell phone.

Arthur would always hear the saying "all it takes is just one phone call." Something that would change a person's life forever. Whether it would be good or bad. When it came to a situation the Brit was in, it was difficult to dial the number somehow. Arthur hesitated. "I bloody hate this," he murmured. "Stupid git."

Demarcus smiled, lightly patting the Brit's shoulder in encouragement. "Tempt not a desperate man," he said in a British accent.

Arthur turned to the grinning man. "Shakespeare?"

Demarucs bowed. "Your highness, I shall return with your scotch." The servant turned and walked inside the club.

Arthur turned back to his phone. He pressed a finger on the touch screen, and it lit, taking him to the menu. He pressed the address menu scanning through a few numbers until he came across Alfred's cell phone number. With a deep sigh he selected it. The screen showed a tiny animation of a phone levitating. Underneath, the words 'Calling Git' were flashing on the screen. Arthur smiled at that before placing the phone to his ear. He was so nervous he could hear his heart pounding rapidly through his ears. Finally, after the fifth ring, someone answered.

"_Hey! What's up?" _the American greeted excitedly.

"Oh, good. You're up," the Brit replied with a sigh of relief. "Listen do you hav-"

"_You've reached Alfred!"_

The Brit frowned, closing his eyes with a twitching eyebrow. "Of course," he muttered with annoyance. Voice mail. But he supposed leaving a message was better than not leaving anything at all.

"_...please leave me a brief message, and I'll return your call ASAP!_ _That means you too, Matt! Haha! Laters!"_

The Brit remembered the git mentioning before that he had a brother named Matthew. Alfred really didn't talk about him all that much. He told Arthur that there were times he would forget he even had a brother.

"_To leave a voice message," _chimed a woman's voice over the phone, "_please press one, or say yes at..."_

"Yes, yes," Arthur groaned out, rubbing his temple. "Just let me leave a goddamn-"

_-BEEP-_

Arthur bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything else foul. Recovering, he spoke in a calm voice. "Um, hello. It's me... Arthur. Surprise!" he said with an awkward chuckle. He scratched his nose and turned, facing a burger joint from across the street. One of Alfred's favorite restaurants. "Hey, guess what?" he continued, "I just spotted one of your favorite eating places, and just... you know... was just thinking about..."

_You._

"...how you like it! Heh!" Arthur turned back to the ICOM entrance when he heard Ray exaggeratingly clearing his throat while staring at him. The Brit glared at him and turned back to his phone. "But that's not the point," he continued. "I know we took a rain check on our conversation at work today, but I..."

_Love you._

"I... really want to talk to you about something before you leave. It's important." He scratched the top of his head. He then suddenly chuckled. "I mean, it's really... _really_ important," he added while moving his free hand away from his head and began shaking it slightly while talking. The git would always tease the Brit whenever he was talking with his hands when he was being serious. "If you want discuss it over by phone, that's alright. If you want meet somewhere, that would be brilliant. So... I guess that's it then. Um, talk to you, _or _see you later."

That was that. There was nothing left to do but wait and wait for his damn scotch to get here. "What in the world is taking him?" the impatient Englishman asked himself. He turned when he heard the doors behind him opened. It was about time. "Oh, good. Thank you, Mr..." As the Brit turned around he blinked by surprise, seeing the four men who carried him inside the club standing in front of him. "Wha... what are you doing here?"

"I asked them to come out here," answered a familiar voice. Brandy poked her head out from behind Leroy with the crown on top of her head. "Gentlemen!" she began with an English accent. "As Queen, I order you to seize this party pooper and bring him back inside my kingdom. We shall give his throne back to him by _brute _force! HAHA!"

"Yes, your majesty," the men answered in unison and walked toward the scared man.

"Oh, no... no, no, no..." the Brit cried, backing away slowly. "Don't you _dare _put your hands on me! I order you!"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Master Arthur," Leroy said.

"_Please! _Don't say the word _hard_!" Arthur whined.

Brandy walked over to the Brit. She placed a finger underneath his chin, forcing his head up. Arthur could feel her French tip nail digging into his skin slightly. "Then be a good boy, Arthur, and come along quietly. Otherwise I'll have Leroy and the others have you by your ankles."

The Brit glared at the smirking woman as his face redden. "I refused to be strapped down and have my bare feet massaged by a man's nipple," he said uneasy.

"None of that. I promise." Brandy pulled her finger away and clapped her hands twice. One of the guys stepped up, holding a glass of liquid. It was scotch. Brandy turned to him and took it. "Thank you, Cain."

The handsome creature with the long dark dreads bowed to her. "Your majesty," he said before taking a step back.

Brandy grinned and held out the glass to the Brit who was looking at her suspiciously. "Here."

Arthur bit down his lower lip. "Is it poisoned?" he asked.

"Tch! Why would I do that, boo? It's scotch." She held it out to him closer. "It's your favorite, right?"

The Brit finally took the drink before hesitantly taking a sip. He blinked, looking up and smacking his lips to examine the flavor. It tasted the same. Finally he took a longer sip.

"Ready to go?" Brandy asked, sounding excited.

Arthur pulled his glass away and shrugged. "No," he answered. "But from the looks of things, I have no choice, now do I?"

"Naw!" Brandy grinned and pulled the crown off her head. She straighten her hair, making sure there were no strains sticking out before placing it back on Arthur's head. The Brit didn't pay any mind, for he was enjoying his drink. The cute girl giggled and turned to the men, flinging her hands in the air with a tiny jump. Arthur was memorized by how Brandy's nice round jelly jiggled when she did that. "Gentlemen, the king is back!"

The four members kneeled to Arthur, saying in unison, "Your highness-"

Arthur pulled the glass away and held up his hand, interrupting them. "Yes, yes, yes! British Empire! I know! Just escort me inside before I change my bloody mind. And grab me another scotch."

* * *

**I'm sorry that there's nothing really going on in this chapter at the moment, but I'm working on it. I promise. Lol I think Dark Miko18 was a little disappointed because she's missing out on the AlfredxArthur-ness! XD Be patient, my pet. *pets Miko in spirit* I hope you have fun at EXPo, my dear!**

****See the stars****

_1. He placed another kiss on her hand. "My goddess." Another kiss. "My Sauda."(*) Another. _**: (basically Sauda means dark-skinned in Arabic) **

_2. Am I a nutter? Why am I telling my problems to complete strangers? _(*) **: (Is it just me, or does it somewhat feel comfortable telling your problems to people you don't even know? It's always been like that for me…)**

**I'll be sure to get the others uploaded this week. I'll do my best! Be safe!**

**-cry**


	18. Chapter 18

_**Animekicksbutt A.K.A. Axel Nakarato is the author's hero..ine: **__And you really are, __**Axel**__. I was so scared that I wasn't going to find anyone to look over this next chapter before going back home where my satellite internet is still probably limited. Tip for everyone… do NOT get satellite internet. It sucks! _

_There must be a lot of anime conventions going on this weekend. I couldn't get in touch with **any** of my other beta readers. :/ _

_Shout out again for deviantARTIST __**animekicksbutt A.K.A. Axel Nakarato **__for her awesomeness! _

_Out of the blue question for you BFFF readers. What is your __**favorite **__catchy__, __mellow__, __nostalgic__, and __sexy__ song in the world? You got it? Okay. Now, I want you to play that song, but not yet! _

_Trust me. You'll know when. _

_**Axis Powers Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (Don't worry. You'll know.) **_

**BFFF**

**~(Chapter 18)~**

**00000000**

The king returned to the prison. It was more energetic and more packed than before. Besides the members, the Brit couldn't spot not one man. The Brit pulled out his cell to check the time. It was 11:35PM. He was starting to believe that he would be the only one here tonight. How embarrassing. Just then, someone patted his shoulder. He turned to the person. It was Ying holding a glass of scotch.

The Brit nodded and happily took it and gave his empty glass to him. "Thank you," he said.

"You're highness," Ying nodded and walked off.

Arthur stopped him again. "Hey! Next time give me a Heineken? Oh, and tell that Mr. Demarcus fellow outside I said thank you!"

"Oh, you mean Soul Brotha?" Ying asked with another nod. "Not a problem, your highness!" Finally he disappeared into the crowd while women were copping a feel his way. The twin didn't seem to mind. He looked as though he was enjoying the attention.

"Hey! You got him!"

The Brit looked up and saw Shonda waving at them by the V.I.P. throne. Arthur watched Brandy go ahead of them to meet up with her.

The king sighed and walked back over to his throne. He plopped down on it and turned to the four men. "You can go now," he said, sounding bored. "I won't run off." The four men bowed and left. Arthur went back to his drink while shielding his eyes away from the stripper on stage. The king nearly spilled his drink when someone wrapped their arms around his neck. He turned to see it was Shonda.

"Arthur, I'm so happy you decided to come back inside!" she said before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"I suppose it's good to be back, Miss Shonda," he said while lightly patting her shoulder. "I only did it for the drinks."

Shonda giggled. "It doesn't matter. This night is about you and your happiness!"

The Brit turned to her again and sighed with a small smile. "Thank you girls," he said. "Really. Thank you for being so nice to me."

Brandy came from the other side of the chair and embraced the king also. "Arthur!" she cried happily. "Don't make us cry, boo!" Then she also pressed her lips on his other cheek.

The Brit knew he had lipstick marks on him. He sighed and gave up. The king then looked around, noticing their third wheel was missing. "Miss Shea?" he said.

Both girls grinned and pointed to where Shea was.

The Brit stretched out his neck to peer over the crowd. The king blinked by surprised to see the giggling girl reaching out her hands and squeezing the male stripper's toned and exposed butt on stage. "Oh, bloody!" he cried.

Brandy and Shonda both laughed at Arthur's reaction.

"As you can see, Shea's in love with Nero," Shonda said, grinning.

"I-I see," the Brit replied, blinking more.

"Brandy! Shonda!"

The Brit and the two girls turned to the person calling out to them. The girls cackled and ran over to the person. All three leaned against each other and laughing uncontrollably while pointing at the happy Shea. The Brit turned back to Shea. His eyes turned to saucers while watching the girl pressing her face against the dancer's butt cheek. The other women cheered, tossing more crumbled money on stage. The Brit's shoulders trembled. He snorted. Couldn't hold it in any longer, he placed a hand to his face and broke into laughter. Where did he find these crazy women? "Oh, my fucking..." he laughed more. He was too tickled.

"Arthur, did you see?" the Brit heard the giggling Brandy ask.

The king didn't realized the girls approached him. His laughter finally died down, and he wiped his eyes. "_Did _I?" he laughed, as he turned to them. "She bloody pressed her face on..." Arthur paused when he saw the new girl who was with them.

She was a caramel tone beauty. Long, dark color hair with honey highlights down her back. Wearing a black spaghetti strap, loose dress, stopped to her knees, matching the girls including the Brit. She was a stunning beauty, and it was someone the king knew.

"Arthur," the girl said by surprise.

"Miss Chamise," the Brit replied uneasy. "Hello."

"Hi," she replied quietly, but was barely heard from the loud music

Arthur wasn't sure why he was stunned to see her. He did remember the girls saying she was suppose to host the show, but he didn't think it was going to be this awkward. He then noticed that the girl looked rather shocked to see him as well. The Brit wondered why. Did she know? Did Alfred tell him they slept together? And now, since Alfred spent the night with her... Arthur felt like pounding something.

_Everything's fine, Kirkland. Play it cool. _

The Brit broke into a warm smile and held out his hand. "Lovely seeing you again," he spoke. "Your friends told me that you were hosting tonight."

"Uh, y-yeah," she stammered, but smiling as well. Finally she took Arthur's hand and shook it. "I know the owner and the manager here, so..."

"_Really_? That's interesting..."

_Who am I kidding? This is extremely awkward!_

Chamise blinked with her mouth opened and closed a few times. She turned to Brandy, her eyes narrowed. "Brand'," she said.

"Gurl look, I know what ya gonna say," Brandy frowned, holding up her hands in defense.

"Oh, really?" Chamise replied, crossing her arms.

"I don't see what the deally yo is."

"The _deally yo _is that you brought him here, Brandy."

"Chami-"

"What is wrong with ya'll?"

"We were just trying to cheer him up, Chamise," Shonda spoke, defending Brandy.

"By bringing him _here_?" the beautiful girl exclaimed, her anger shown on her still lovely face. "This is... ah! Unbelievable! And right after we..." Chamise, frustrated now, sighed angrily, turning her back to them, and turning back seconds later crying, "What the fuck were ya'll thinking?"

Brandy walked over to Chamise and grabbed her tightly by the arm. She turned to Arthur. "I'm sorry," she said. "_Please_ excuse us while we get our noses powdered." She then took Chamise further down, heading to the restroom with Shonda tailing behind.

The king sat quietly on his throne, baffled. What the hell was going on? He shook his head while reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his cell phone again. "This is getting weird," he said to himself. As if it wasn't already! He turned to the menu to see if he missed any calls from Alfred. None. The Brit sighed, disappointed. His head was pounding from the loud music, and he was actually feeling tired. He couldn't stay here. And he didn't want to cause anymore trouble with Brandy and the others. Besides, he had other matters to attend to. He needed to speak with Alfred.

_I want to see him._

The Brit looked around until he spotted Ying and Yang walking over to him. One of them was holding a tray with a bottle of beer. "Hey! You two," he called, motioning his hand at them to walk faster.

The twins made it over to him while he hopped out of his throne. "Is everything alright, my lord?" they both asked.

"Not quite," Arthur answered while placing a hand to his hip and placed his other hand to his mouth, thinking. "Listen, eighty-six on the Heineken. I _really _have to go somewhere. Could one of you call me a cab while the other tells my mistresses when they return to my throne that I thank them for this... interesting night?"

"Yes, my lord," they both answered.

"Oh, um... here." The king reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He quickly rummaged inside and pulled out two fifty dollar bills, handing each one to them both. "For your trouble."

Both twins took the money and bowed deeper. "Thank you my lord!" they said.

Arthur fanned his hands at them and rushing. "Right, right," he said. "Please hurry! It's a matter of life or death!"

_Mostly love._

The twins nodded and parted ways. Arthur sighed as he slipped his wallet back in his back pocket. "Well, phase one is complete. Now to hide somewhere outside until the cab comes." The Brit turned to the exit doors. With the club lights shining down on it, the only thing missing was a choir singing angelically. The Brit nodded. "Right!" The king held his breath and took his first two steps toward the exit.

"Arthur! Where you going, boy?"

_Bollocks!_

The Brit turned around, seeing Shea walking over to him. "Miss Shea."

"Where's Brandy and Shonda?" she asked.

"Oh, they're..."

The mixed skinned girl leaned on one sexy toned leg and crossed her arms. With a perfectly trimmed eyebrow arched, she asked, "You weren't thinking about sneaking off, were you?"

The Brit chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, crikey no!" he lied. "I was actually going to fetch me another drink."

"Aw, sweetie. You can have one of the boys do that for you!"

"Oh, no, no. I can get it myself-"

"Ah, here comes Yang right now! Yang, over here, honey!" The cute girl waved to Yang, getting his attention.

Yang saw her and walked over to them. He stopped and bowed. "The deed you requested for is done, my lord," he said.

Shea blinked and turned to Arthur. "What deed?" she asked.

"Uh, for those... hot wings that I ordered for you ladies!" the Brit lied, turning to the confused member. "Isn't that right?"

Yang blinked. "Uh, my lord?"

"And _where_ are they?" the king asked, crossing his arms.

"But, your majesty... I thought-"

"Hot...Wings!" the Brit repeated carefully. "How many blasted times must I tell you, 14?"

Yang held up a finger. "It's 70, si-"

"I don't care, alright? Just go!" the king ordered, shoving him off. Unfortunately, Yang didn't even budge from the weak push. "_Now_, number 70," the king frustratingly ordered once more.

The confused member shrugged before bowing to them and rushing off.

Shea giggled. "Arthur, I think this royalty thing is getting to your head," she teased.

Arthur straighten his crown. "Yes, well, I bet it would be grand if I were the ruler during the 1800s."

"Yeah, well it's 2010, and you're only gonna be king for a day!"

"King Arthur, sir?"

The king and Shea turned to the person getting their attention. It was Ying this time.

"Oh," the Brit said nervously. "It's you."

"I see the other mistresses have not returned," the older twin said. "Were you going to tell them yourself?"

Shea turned to Arthur again. "Tell us what?" she asked.

"Oh, that his highness has to go-"

"_GO_..." the Brit bellowed, interrupting, "Yes! G-go... and get that massage at that pampering room that I've been hearing so much about!"

Ying scrunched his face up with confusion. "You were, my lor-?"

"_YES_, Ying... I _am_," the king answered through his clenched teeth.

"Well, o...kay," the twin answered with a shrug. "I'll inform your personal masseur right away, sire."

"Oh, can it wait, Ying?" Shea asked, stopping him. "Arthur still needs to get his surprise."

The Brit asked with a sigh, "Can't you ladies just mail it to me?"

Shea laughed. "Oh, honey! I don't think that's possible."

"Honestly. What the hell did you get me? The moon?"

"You gonna have to wait!" Shea grabbed the Brit's hand and made him sit down. She turned to Ying and winked. "That'll be all, Ying," she said happily. "Go have a treat!" (*)

"Thank you, Mistress," the twin answered. He bowed and left.

The king sighed, placed his elbow on the arm rest, and angrily rest his chin on his clenched fist. His crown leaned to the side during the impact. Shea giggled and fixed it. "Thanks," he murmured.

Shea replied by leaning over giving him a big kiss on his forehead. She giggled more. "Red looks good on you," she teased, referring to the blob of red lipstick on his forehead to match the ones on his cheeks.

"Funny. Someone once told me I looked good in gray..."

_Fucking git. Call me._

Just then, Arthur's cell phone vibrated. He sat up in the chair quickly and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and turned to the menu. It wasn't a call, but it was a text message that read, 'Text message from Git.'

_Alfred…_

Quickly he press the view button and read silently.

'_Hey! Sry 4 the text message. I could call now, but I rly got my hands full. If it's not 2 late 4 u, I can stop by ur place round 2:30-ish? _

_-A' _(*)

The Brit made a small smile at how the git texted shortcuts. After reading through each and every word five times already, he began to text one back.

'_I don't mind at all. Thank you for your reply, regardless. I want to talk to you before you leave for your flight tomorrow. See you tonight.'_

Reading through his message again, and making sure he didn't make any errors, he pressed the 'send message' button. The words 'message sent' appeared on the screen with an animation of a green checkmark marking over an envelope. Arthur sighed, feeling good. Feeling better. The Brit felt someone peering over his shoulder.

"Ooh, who was that?" asked Shea with a grin.

Arthur blushed, putting his phone away. "Just texting someone," he answered.

"Mm-hmm!"

"Oh, get out of here, you." The Brit grinned, trying to playfully hit the nosy woman.

Shea shrieked, backing away. "Ohh! Arthur's smiling!" she teased, poking his lipstick covered cheek. "Does this mean you're finally in a good mood?"

The Brit sighed, rolling his eyes. "If you really must know, then yes."

"Aw! I knew it!"

And the Brit actually was. He made up with Alfred, and he was going to see him tonight. He felt so much better. Things were going his way. He just had to remind the girls to take him back to his place before 2:30 tonight.

"We're back!"

The Brit looked up, seeing only Brandy and Shonda returning. Arthur got up and went over to them. "Miss Brandy," he said with concern. "Is everything-"

Brandy reached over and held's his hands. "Everything's fine now," she answered. "I promise."

"Miss Chamise didn't sound too happy of me being here."

"Aw, no, boo! Err'thing's cool!" Brandy repeated, squeezing his hands tighter.

The Brit wasn't too convinced. He turned to Shonda who only nodded with a smile. He turned back to Brandy, squeezing her hands in return. "If you say so."

"A'ight! Are you ready for your gift?"

"Ah, am I finally going to get it, now?" he said with a chuckle. "About bloody time."

"Yep! Just sit tight! You'll get it shortly!" The sassy girl made the king sit back on his throne.

Arthur shook his head. He guessed he wasn't going anywhere until he finally get this gift of his. That's when he remembered.

_Oh, that's right._

"Ladies, can we leave before 2? I have somethin-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Brandy said, making him sit back. "But right now sit here!" With that she joined Shea, Shonda, and the other screaming women by the stage, watching the stripper Nero doing a split. "SHAKE IT, NERO BABY! WHOO!"

"Well, o-okay!" the king called out to them. "Remember. Before 2-"

Brandy turned to him and swatting her hands with a nod. "I _got _you!" she called back then turned her attention back to the stripper's mesmerizing butt.

The Brit sighed, lifted his hands, and looked up at the ceiling. "They're going to forget," he said to himself. He then heard the women applauding, whistling, and cheering as Nero bowed to them after his performance. With a wink and a grin, he went backstage. Seconds later several members appeared on stage with small buckets, gathering all of the dancer's bills left on the ground. Chamise then appeared later with a microphone at hand.

"How ya ladies dewin'?" she cried out to the audience. "Give it up once again for NEEEEROOOOO!"

The Brit's ears were ringing from the loud high pitch screams coming from the club full of women.

_These ladies would probably go cuckoo if a dancer took off only a damn shoe._

"Now, don't forget, ladies! If there's a certain sexy dancer up here who caught your eye tonight, and you want to spend some, heh... _quality _time with them, it will cost ya fifty dollars per dancer-or how me and my girls say... 'fiddy.' And for 'fiddy' dollars, you can have them for not ten minutes, not fifteen, not even thirty... but a _full _hour, and do _whatever _you want with them!"

The girls cried excitedly.

Chamise held up a finger. "Ah, ah, ah!" she began. "No sex." The girls then whined. "Sorry, ladies. It's their policy! But you're more than welcome to ask them _off _work! But everything else is fine. You can have fun with them at the sauna, the torture chamber, the cuddly room, the game room, or ya'll can just sit down and have a memorable E-Harmony chat."

All the women booed at the last part.

Chamise laughed. "Hehe! Psych! Once again, ya'll. If it's an ICOM dancer, it's _fifty _dollars per dancer for one hour, and regular ICOM members are what?" Chamise held out the mike to the audience.

"THIRTY DOLLARS!" they cried.

"Very good! Last time someone got confused and thought it was thirty for _all_ members. Hopefully I explained this more clearly for you. Okay, moving on!" Chamise then started grinning. "Are you ladies ready to leave?"

"HELL NO!" was a reply from the women.

"Ohhh! Okay, okay!" Chamise bit her lower lip, looking like she was plotting and teasing the audience. Finally she placed the mike close to her mouth. "So, you mean to tell me... that you want _more_?"

The women screamed in reply.

"Much, _much _more?"

Louder screams.

"Hm... I dunno. Ya'll don't sound so sure!"

"QUIT TEASIN' AND BRING HIM OUT, CHAMISE!" someone cried. Other women were agreeing with cries.

Chamise laughed. "A'ight. No more teasing. Well, from the sound of it, it looks like ya'll know who this next stripper is, huh?"

Once again, more screams.

"Wow! Okay! Well, for those of you who don't know this next performer, he's a young gentleman born in Houston, Texas. Tall, lean, _sexy _as hell..." Someone screamed out in the audience. "And he can daaaaaannceee..." Chamise pulled the mike away screaming out a, "WHOOO!" and shivers while fanning herself. "A little birdie also told me he can get down on the pole. Is that true?"

The women cried more.

Chamise giggled. "Word up! Can't wait to see dat shit! Oh! And what's even more sexy about him, is that he supports our country, U... to da S... to da A!" Whistle noises and cat calls were heard. "Which is mainly why he picked out this stage name when he became an ICOM member here! Ladies, and... _mostly _ladies... give it up... for my homeboy... MISTER AMERICAAAAA!"

The Brit blinked and looked around. _Every _women in the club were growing mad excited.

_Who the devil is he? They make him sound like he's Michael Jackson, The Beatles, and Frank Sinatra all mixed into one. _

Just then, a huge spotlight with an American flag stencil shined down on the curtain. Suddenly, the _National Anthem_ started playing. Everyone including the members stopped what they were doing, got up and placed a hand over their heart singing along. Arthur, growing nervous, hesitantly got out of his chair and placed a hand to his chest. He looked around once again.

_Really... who is he? Obama?_

The Brit turned to Brandy and the others on the other side of the club. They were staring at him with huge grins on their faces. The Brit's eyes narrowed and he shook his head with confusion.

_Why are they...?_

The girls nodded and pointed at the stage crying out something to him.

"My...? My what?" he cried.

"Your gift!" they answered.

Arthur paled. "A FUCKING STRIPPER IS THE GIFT?" he bellowed out loud enough for others to hear.

The girls nodded.

"Why?"

"You'll see!" Brandy replied.

"You bloody keep saying that! Who is it already?"

When the song finally ended, screams filled the air again. Arthur cringed and turned to the stage to see this popular dancer. On stage there was a silhouette of a person approaching behind the curtain. He stood tall and straight. Slowly he raised his hand and saluted. A catchy, mellow song then started, followed by even more screams. The flag stencil switched to a normal spot light before the dancer pushed back the curtains. Money was flying all across the stage, and the dancer haven't even started taking off any of his clothes yet.

Arthur, meanwhile, took a good look at the male dancer. He was a drop dead gorgeous blond wearing some dark tan color uniform, a white button down shirt and brown neck tie underneath, black gloves, a brown bomber jacket, and black combat boots. Arthur looked harder. That man... he knew him. The Brit turned to the grinning girls. Then back to the dancer. Then back to the girls, and back to the dancer. (*) He _knew _him.

"Alfred," he murmured. He turned to the girls, pointing at the man. "_That's _Alfred!"

Brandy and the others grinned and nodded.

"That's FUCKING Alfred!" the Brit cried, pointing harder.

The girls nodded happily again.

"MY COWORKER ALFRED FUCKING JONES!"

"Yes!" the girls cried, laughing.

The baffled king turned his attention back to Alfred. He watched as the git started swaying his hips along with the music, slowly and teasingly slipping off the jacket with a huge grin on his face. The women were going crazy.

When he finally removed the jacket, he turned to Chamise, who was still present on stage and tossed it to her. The grinning girl caught it and carefully walked down the steps, being helped by one of the members.

"Take it off!" a woman screamed excitedly.

"You are so hot!" cried another woman.

"FUCK ME!" someone shrieked.

Mr. America reached down unfastening his belt. He tossed it to the audience. A girl caught it, swinging it in the air happily. He then reached up and took his uniform jacket, and as if on cue with the beat of the music, ripped it opened with buttons flying everywhere.

The jaw dropping Brit got hit directly on the forehead with one, never flinching.

The tall blond tossed the ruined jacket to the left side of the audience. Two girls grabbed it at the same time and began fighting over it. The white shirt was ripped next before tossed to his right, lost in the crowd. The tie was still around his neck. Alfred's exposed chest did something strange, yet mesmerizing. Belly rolling. Rib sliding. He dived down on the floor, worm like, grinding the floor. More money was tossed at him. He crawled over to the squealing girls. The tall blond stood on his knees rolling his chest like a snake. The excited and tempting women reached out, running their hands down his skin.

Flexible, toned, groin popping, the Brit never seen anything like it. Arthur was shocked, surprised, confused. He didn't blink once and kept his eyes on the dancer. Suddenly, someone flashed a beer bottle in front of his face. "Wha?" he said and turned to the person. It was Ying and Yang both standing either side of his throne.

"He's pretty bad ass, isn't he your highness?" Ying asked holding out the bottle.

Arthur nodded, taking the bottle.

"Wait 'til you see him on pole," Yang said, pointing at the amazing stripper.

The Brit quickly turned back to the dancer, who was now at the pole grinding it. More money was tossed. Arthur watched as Mr. America climbed the high pole, nearly touching the ceiling. Arthur's heart nearly jumped as he watched his coworker let go of the pole and holding it by his legs. He twisted and slid all the way down. Half way he grabbed it with his hands again and miraculously stretched his body out, looking like a flag. He finally made it to the ground and landed with a split.

"C...crikey," the king murmured.

"I like how he does this and not make it look..." Ying said trying to come up with a good word.

"Girly?" Yang added.

"Yeah! He's awesome!"

Yang nodded, agreeing. "Athletically awesome! I told him he should join the Olympics! They're making this into a sport now!"

Arthur watched him do more amazing and stunning tricks on the pole. It was incredible. He had never seen anything like it. It was like Alfred did this for years. The Brit couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand it. Alfred... a stripper. "What the hell is going on?" he asked himself.

Alfred climbed the pole high up again and slid down with one gloved hand. On the way down he reached down and grabbed a hold of his pants. With a swift move, he ripped it completely off, leaving him with his American flag like bikini. He tossed the pants at the now shrieking audience. Even more money was tossed. The whole stage floor was covered with cash plus someone's panties."

"Oh!" the Brit blushed and looked away, embarrassed. It wasn't like he never saw the man naked before. He just wasn't used to this.

_Really. What the hell is going on? Why does he work here?_

"This is the most I've seen him make yet, bro!" the Brit heard one of the twins say.

"No kidding!" the other replied. "All eyes are on him! He's a natural!"

Arthur turned to the twins. He wanted to know. "How long has he worked here?" he asked out loud.

"What?" the twins asked in unison, not hearing what the king said because of the screams.

"When did he start working here?" he asked louder.

"Not too long!" Ying answered. "Maybe..."

"Close to two years I think!" Yang completed. "He only works every other Saturday night and every Sunday night! He's working just for tonight!"

"I think he's going on a trip or somewhere!" Ying added.

"Two bloody years?" the Brit said to himself.

"Your highness!" Yang laughed as he pointed at the stage. "Don't look now, but it appears that your mistresses are interested in getting a _new _king!"

"What?" the Brit cried as he turned back to the stage. He saw Shea and Shonda up on stage dancing in between Alfred.

Shea was behind Mr. America, holding a twenty dollar bill. With a huge, evil grin, she reached down and hooked a finger around the elastic waist band of Alfred's bikini and pulled it out. She took a quick peak and squealed with delight before slowly slipping the bill inside. She let go of the elastic, making it pop before giving his nice ass a good smack and saying something to him that the king couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it made the stripper laugh.

Naughty Shonda, meanwhile, pulled the elastic out from his front. She stared at the dancer before trailing her eyes downward. The woman shrieked excitedly, seeing something that both shocked and amazed her, making the dancer look rather amused. Shonda slipped the bill inside looking bashful. She stared at the dancer shyly for a quick second before pulling the elastic and looking down again. She let out another exciting shriek.

Arthur rolled his eyes and smacked his hand to his forehead. "Blimey," he muttered with a flushed face.

Shonda then leaned forward whispering something in the grinning American's ear before taking him by his neck tie and walking him down the cat walk. Shea followed, gripping Alfred's hips. They were heading Arthur's way.

The Brit gasped.

_Those sneaky little... this was all part of their plan! _

Just then Brandy showed up with a huge grin. "He's all yours, British boy!" she said.

The king frowned. "Miss Brandy! I should have known!" he cried while placing his bottle on the tray Ying was holding. "_All _this was part of your plan wasn't it?"

The sassy Afro-woman cackled with glee. "Since day one," she answered. "Oh! And we already pre-paid him fifty dollars, so you get to spend-"

"No, no, _no_!" the king cried before snatching the crown of his head and using it to hide his face. "Miss Brandy, I _can't _let him see me!"

"Arthur, what are you ashamed of?"

"I can't do this, alright?" Arthur was about to make a retreat, but Brandy made him sit back down.

"It's either this or I'll have the twins hold you down, boo-boo," Brandy threatened.

"I wish you would!" the king cried angrily.

"If that's what you want! Ying! Yang!"

"Sorry, your highness," the twins said in unison as he held the yelping king down by his shoulders.

The Brit tired desperately to break free, but the twins were a lot stronger than he though. "Traitors!" he snapped. "I fucking tipped you fifty a piece!"

"So?" Brandy said. "While you were outside, I tipped them sixty a piece."

The king glared at the blushing twins.

"Sorry... your highness?" the twins said uneasy, shrugging with cringed faces.

"Please!" the Brit cried. "You don't understand!"

"What's not to understand, British boy?" Brandy cried with a grin. "Love is love! It can't get more complicated than that!"

"But..." The Brit continued hiding his face behind the plastic crown. He was scared out of his mind. If the git had been working here for almost two years, and none of the workers at F.U. knew about it, how would Alfred take it?

"British boy!" Brandy cried, getting annoyed. She tried to snatch the crown away, but the king held tight.

Arthur grumbled, shaking his head. "Cut it out, woman!" he cried.

_He'll hate me. What do I do?_

"The guest of honor awaits you, Mr. America!" the Brit heard someone say. It was Shea.

Arthur's heart was pounding uncontrollably. What was he to do? All he could do was clench his eyes shut and for the first time in his life... pray.

_Dear god... I didn't need you then, but I need you now._

Suddenly, someone took a hold of the king's crown and pulled it away, revealing the terrified Brit. Arthur slowly began to open his eyes. He turned his head, seeing a pair of shocked blue orbs staring down at him.

Mr. America stood there, not believing who was before him. Even though the stripper wasn't dancing, the women behind him were still shouting and screaming. They were _actually _cheering him on.

Arthur opened his mouth, but wasn't sure what to say. But only one thing came to mind. With a nervous smile and a shrug, the king ordered, "Dance?"

Mr. America still made no sudden movement. He was just staring at the king, stunned and baffled.

There was a huge lump in the king's throat. This staring contest was becoming nerve wrecking.

_Yell at me. Walk away. Do something!_

Finally the dancer made a response. His eyes softened. Handing the plastic crown to someone, the stripper began to sway along with the music. He strutted over to the king's throne. The twins freed the king as the dancer approached him. Mr. America bent his knees slightly, placing his groin on the Brit's knee.

Arthur flinched and sucked in his breath.

On beat of the song the dancer grinded his crotch on the king's trembling knee. He later straddled his legs, rest his hands on top of the throne over the kings head, and slowly rolled his chest in front of the Brit's face.

Arthur kept his hands on the arm rest. He made short breaths. His pants tighten from the stripper's groin rubbing against his. He remained completely still. All he could do was keep his emerald eyes on the dancer, who was staring lustily back. The king was suddenly growing hot by that stare. He had completely forgotten about Brandy, Shea, Shonda, and all the other rabid women around them. The sensation, the atmosphere, and having this hot man on him was enough to make the Brit drag the dancer to a private room and fuck like cats in heat. Fuck the club rules. Having a mind of it's own, the king's hand lifted off the arm rest and was placed on one of Mr. America's toned hips, gently massaging it. His other hand somehow ended up with a crisped bill received by someone. The hand with the bill grasped between its index and middle finger like a cigarette reached out toward the dancer's worm-like chest. The fresh bill began brushing across the right nipple until it hardened. Then the next. Then it brushed slightly down his chest that was not once making the stripper shiver. Just when the king was about to trail the bill further down, the dancer stood on the chair. A moan escaped in the back of Arthur's throat as Mr. America began slowly rolling his hips in his face.

"Crikey..." the king breathed, looking dead at the man's crotch. The white star rested right on the dancer's groin would bump against the king's nose occasionally. The king took the bill again and began brushing it across the dancer's crotch each time he thrust forward. The Brit was sure he heard someone yelling out repeatedly to give the dancer the damn money. The king's other hand finally joined in as it grasped the American's elastic waist with two fingers and pulled it out. The hand slowly slipped the bill inside, feeling heat coming from Mr. America's length. So tempting to try it, but the Brit declined. He shivered and slowly pulled away.

The dancer suddenly grabbed his hand and made him slip it back inside.

The king's short breaths turned into hard pants. His face flushed as he brushed his fingers across the warm, stiff muscle underneath the only piece of clothing that was keeping the stripper decent.

Mr. America sat back on the kings lap while the king's hand remained in the bikini. He stared down at the dazed Brit before leaning in.

Arthur tilted his head back until it hit the soft cushion of the throne. He took a breath and closed his eyes as the dancer's face inched closer to his. The Brit was expecting to feel lips against his, but instead felt a hot tongue brushed across his ear. Arthur shivered, pulling his hand out of the bikini and grasped Mr. America's hot shoulder. "S-stop," he was barely heard saying.

"Yes, my lord," came the response in the king's ear before soft pair of moist lips pressed against it followed by a husky, "I'm at your command."

The king swallowed, licking his lips. He literally begin to throb painfully from Mr. America's reply. "You're... f-fine," he panted in reply.

_Don't come. Don't come. Don't come. Don't come..._

Mr. America pulled away and moved to the Brit's face. He leaned in and lightly brushed a tongue across the king's parted lips.

The king shivered more, placing both hands on the stripper's hips as the stripper began grinding against him again. Arthur wasn't going to deny that he was hard, and he was sure Mr. America could tell. So this what it was like getting lap dances. Especially lap dances from a coworker. "This is just fine," the king said, out of it. "Just fine... for now."

"Yes, my lord," the stripper replied.

Another painful throb. "Oh, bloody hell..."

_Stop addressing me that way, git. I'll..._

The stripper trailed his tongue down to the king's exposed neck, licking and sucking, leaving a soon to be hickey.

"My god," the king whimpered.

Mr. America hummed, pulling away from his neck asking, "Good, your highness?"

_-Throb-throb-throb-_

"Good... Just fine."

The stripper smiled as he sat up and unfastening his necktie. "I can tell." He wrapped the tie around the king's neck and pulled him closer to him. He then attacked the other side of the king's neck, making suckling noises and grinding on beat again.

"Crikey," the king panted, squeezing both toned cheeks still in his hands. What was going on? The Brit didn't come here to be dry humped by this half naked man. What was his reason of seeing Alfred again?

_Oh... fuck... he's going to make me... wait a minute. Wait... I must..._

Mr. America pulled away slightly. "We're almost done, sire," he announced to the king.

The king grabbed the performer's forearm, sensing the man getting ready to slip away. "W-wait! I... we need to..."

The stripper placed his lips back to the Brit's ear. "I know," he said. "We will." Kissing his earlobe, standing, and bowing before the king, Mr. America's warmth was gone.

* * *

**I actually felt kinda awkward, yet at the same time turned on when I wrote this. I'm curious of what you all's reaction is. I can't wait to read some of the reviews. lol**

**Okay! I got one more chapter to work on (AGAIN… it's ****not**** the last chapter)! And then I want to hear from you guys about this idea I was debating on…**

_****See the Stars** **_

_1. "That'll be all, Ying," she said happily. "Go have a treat!" _**: (please tell me you think of Freakazoid when you read that part! xD)**

_2. _'_Hey! Sry 4 the text message. I could call now, but I rly got my hands full. If it's not 2 late 4 u, I can stop by ur place round 2:30-ish? __-A'_**: (anyone here familar with ABC Family show called 'Pretty Little Liars'? Think about it.)**

_3. The Brit turned to the grinning girls. Then back to the dancer. Then back to the girls, and back to the dancer. _**(first person who gets it will get a shout out in the next chapter! :3)**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this. I have. :p **

**Be safe!**

**-hoggy**


	19. Chapter 19

_**The author wants to know are you guys **__**still**__** LOLing?: **__lol Are you guys __**really**__? It's been a riot reading all your reviews on the last chapter. But it's time to get a little serious… but just a little. ;B_

_Shout out to… *drum roll* __**TheEvilMuffinToaster **__for being the first to figure out the third answer from *see the stars*. You totally rock mah face!_

_And shout out to this chapter's beta-reader: __**NeonGreenCrayon A.K.A. Spongelion! **Actually**, **__he ones who have been going through my later chapters are **truly **awesome, I'll tell ya! :3_

_Okay! Enough with me going on and on! Here's the chapter that a few of you have been waiting for!_

_**Axis Powers Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (….SILVER FISH HAND CATCH!)**_

**BFFF**

**~(Chaper 19)~**

**00000000**

The flushed, hair ruffled, and clothing wrinkled king watched him go back stage, ignoring the cheering, the amused stares, and sternly glares. He tried keeping all that warmth of Alfred's body, his touch, his lips and tongue locked in his mind. But no matter how hard he tried, that one question still crowded his head. _Why _did Alfred work here? It took a while for the king to realize Brandy and the others were shaking him to get his attention.

"You okay, boo?"

Arthur blinked and turned to the ladies. "Ah... beg your pardon?"

Shea laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah," she said. "He's okay."

"I thought you two were gonna get _busy _right there!" Brandy said. "That boy was getting all freaky-deeky on you! F'real!" Brandy cackled, imitating Mr. America's grinding move.

"I know rite?" Shonda cried, agreeing.

"So did you like your gift?" Shea asked the king.

The king looked down, twirling the necktie his performer left behind around his fingers. "It was," he said, "okay."

"Just okay?" the girls cried while shaking the man's shoulders.

The blushing king grumbled swatting the girl's poking fingers away. "I'm joking! I'm joking! It was brilliant, alright?"

"Yes!" Brandy cried excitedly. "I... am a fucking genius!"

Arthur frowned, folding his arms. "You could have at least told me what you three were up to."

"Yeah, well, it don't matter now. You get to spend an hour with your _booooyfriend_!" Brandy teased, clapping in rhythm and sounding like a highschool cheerleader.

"He's not my boyfriend," the king murmured blushing.

"Not yet," the girls said in unison and laughed.

The king sighed, shaking his head. He turned to the girls and broke into a small smile. "Thank you, ladies."

"You're welcome, Arthur," Shonda said sweetly. "Come on! Fix yourself before he comes back!"

The girls made the king stand and helped fix his hair, wipe all the lipstick stains off his face, and smoothed down his suit. He looked just like when he first left his apartment.

"Perfect!" Shea cried.

"I'd tap that!" Brandy said before Shonda cackled and nudged her playfully.

"So where are you two gonna go?" Shea asked. "I think the cuddly room could work."

Arthur blinked. "Um, well. I was just going to talk to him, is all."

"Gurl, they don't wanna go there," Brandy said turning up her nose. "They should chill at the spa room." The sly girl turned to her shoulder to see if anyone was listening in. She turned back to Arthur. "Having sex in hot tubs are _great_ by the way," she whispered.

"Miss Brandy!" the blushing Brit cried.

"What? I'm just sayin'! And I _know_ you can't tell me someone in this joint never broke the 'no sex' rule at least once in their life!"

"I've been guilty once," Ying and Yang both admitted it. They both blinked and turned to each other, not knowing they were going to say the same thing.

The king hummed humorously, folding his arms. "I guess it's true when they say no one knows you better but yourself, huh, fellas?"

Shea smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "Out of curiosity," she said, "who were the lucky girls?"

Both bashful twins began answering. "It was Mistress Br-"

Brandy shrieked and reached over, clasping both twins's mouths. "Haha! You know what?" she laughed nervously. "That's none of our business, ya'll! Don't worry 'bout it! ...okay?"

Both muted twins blinked and nodded.

"No one knows you better but yourself," the king repeated with a smirk.

Shonda giggled at the blushing Brandy. Then she gasped pointing over the Brit's shoulder. "Oh! Oh! There he is, Arthur!"

Arthur looked up, seeing his coworker standing at the bar, ordering a drink, and talking to the bartender. A few girls would pass him, brushing a hand across certain parts of his body.

_I have to talk to him and find out what the hell is going on._

The king suddenly yelped when someone grabbed his shoulders and spun him around facing them. He blinked, coming face to face with a determined looking Brandy.

Brandy fixed his hair and double checked to see if their king was looking nice for his servant to be. "It's now or never, British boy!" she said before spinning him back front and gave him a good push. "Fuck or be fucked, boo-boo!"

"Good luck, my lord," the twins said behind him while the other girls cheered him on.

The king stumbled a bit before catching his balance. He straighten himself and fixed his tie. He stood and turned to the bar. He watched as more girls flirt with the dancer and complimented him on his performance. A few of the members greeted him with daps and made a few jokes. He was finally alone.

"Alright, I can do this. We're just going to talk, is all."

The Brit headed to the bar. Surprisingly, Arthur wasn't feeling nervous, and that scared him. He walked closer to the dancer with his back turned to him. Feeling like it took an eternity, Arthur was standing several feet away from him. With a clear of his throat, the king spoke. "Excuse me? Mr. America?"

Mr. America turned to the voice. Just when the stripper nearly faced the Brit, someone approached him and flung their arms around his neck. He was a bit taken back as the Brit was.

"Alfred!" the person cried. It was Chamise. "Oh my god! That shit was tight! I had my mouth opened the whole time! That pole dance was off the chain!"

Alfred grinned and hugged her back. "Heh, thanks," he said. He turned to the Brit and smiled at him apologetically.

The king's cheeks warmed when he saw that flashed smile.

The clinging girl finally broke the hug. "What time did you say you were getting off?"

"About two, but since I'm done performing, I can leave whenever."

"Oh, okay. Wait, didn't you have a client that was suppose to have you for an hour?"

"Yeah, actually," the grinning America replied. "They're-"

"Mr. America?"

The Brit blinked, seeing another girl who looked twice as sexy as Chamise, cutting in between her and Alfred. She was a drop dead gorgeous caramel skin woman, wearing a tight purple shimmer dress with a split on the side. She held out her hand before the blinking dancer. "Hi," she said huskily in a sexy way. "I'm Jean."

Alfred smiled, took her hand, and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mistress Jean," he said formally.

Chamise was looking at the back of her head with disgust.

"You were great out there tonight. The best I've seen," she complimented.

"Glad you're enjoying the show, mistress."

Jean moved closer to Alfred until her cleavage were pressed against his bare chest. "Oh, please... just Jean for right now..." She looked into his eyes as she fetched something in her matching purse. She pulled out a fifty dollar bill and flashed it in front of the tall blond's face. She trailed the bill down his chest, past his stomach, and slowly stuffed it inside his bikini. She trailed her eyes downward and brushed a hand across his crotch. Her eyes flashed by surprise and stared back up at him. She chuckled while biting her lower lip. "But later... you can call me a miracle."

This time Chamise cut in between the two. "Um, heh... excuse _me_," she said sarcastically. "I hate to interrupt, but Mr. America already has a client."

Jean stared at Chamise with a mocking smirk and turned back to Alfred. "Oh?" she said.

"I'm afraid I do, Mistress Jean," he answered. He then pointed directly at the blushing Brit. "That gentleman right there."

Jean sighed, brushing a few strains of her dark hair behind her ear before turning to Arthur. She stared at the Brit from head to toe once before turning back to Alfred. "Hm," she hummed with another smirk. She dug into her purse again, pulling out another fifty dollar bill and slipped it in his bikini. "A hundred bucks says not anymore."

"Um, yeah it do!" cried a familiar voice behind Arthur. The Brit turned to see it was Brandy and the others who showed up. "Arthur got Mr. America fair and square. You gonna have to wait your damn turn, honey!"

"All members must obey every customer, right?" Jean said. "Besides, other than my offer, I'm sure Mr. America won't turn down my looks... as well as what I can do to him.

Alfred chuckled nervously. "Ah, actually," he began.

"Oh!" Brandy interrupted. "If that's how you wanna play! We can play harder! One-fifty."

Arthur blinked and turned to Brandy. "M-Miss Brandy?"

Jean chuckled and placed a hand on her hip. "Two hundred," she said.

"Look, this really isn't-"

Shea crossed her arms. "Two-fifty," she said, rolling her neck.

"Three hundred," Jean said.

A little crowd suddenly gathered around the group, hearing the commotion. Arthur was _now_ growing anxious.

"Three-fifty!" Shonda joined in.

"Four hundred."

"You done cross the line, bitch," Brandy cried. "Five hundred."

"Let's see how thin it is. Eight hundred dollars."

The crowd around them were talking among themselves by surprise.

"Oh, blimey," the Brit muttered, placing a hand on his face.

Brandy bit down her lower lip in frustration.

"Nine hundred that Arthur takes Mr. America," Chamise said.

More cheers and commotions were coming from the crowd.

Arthur blinked and turned to Chamise by surprise. "Miss Chamise," he murmured.

"One thousand," Jean said.

Chamise frowned gritting her teeth.

Jean turned to the girls. "Well?" she said, holding out her hands. "Got anything else up your sleeves ladies?"

Brandy and the others were silent. They turned to Arthur apologetically.

"Well, if that's all you part-time McDonald's employees got, I'll be keeping Mr. America for..." The mocking girl checked her fancy wrist watch. "Hm... about twenty hours. Or until the club closes. Who knows..." Mistress Jean walked over to the tall blond, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He may end up coming home with me tonight!"

The Brit frowned at the woman.

_That flukey tart! How dare she? _

Arthur turned to Alfred who was staring back. Just then Alfred flashed him a warm smile. That same smile the Brit seen before. That smile that made Alfred look ten times gorgeous but at the same time, just not normal. Arthur frowned and turned to Jean.

"Two thousand dollars."

A shocked Jean and everyone turned to Arthur. The Brit ignored them except Alfred who looked just as shocked.

The king crossed his arms with tinted cheeks. "I'll pay Mr. America two thousand dollars... to come back home with me tonight," he demanded. Brandy and the other girls cried with glee, hugging him and jumping up and down.

Jean frowned turning her nose up at him.

Alfred, amused by the command, turned to Jean. He gently took her hands, slipped them off his neck, and released them. He left her there stunned and went over to Arthur who was blushing uncontrollably. The dancer smirked. "I'm worth that much, your highness?" he asked.

The Brit turned to him. "Depends how well your performance goes," he answered. He then frowned. "And wipe that stupid grin off your face!"

The stripper chuckled with a shrug. "Whatever you say... your highness," he replied.

_-Throb-_

Arthur turned his head away with an embarrassing grunt. "You look _ridiculous _in that get up you know that?"

The stripper laughed.

"You honestly do."

"Your hands were disagreeing with you earlier, Arthur," Shea butted in.

"Your friend down there is disagreeing also," Brandy teased, tugging on the Brit's pants leg. "Your pants weren't fitting this tight before, British boy!"

The girls giggled. Alfred grinned.

The flustered Brit tuned away from them. "Where's the _retarded _ATM machine?" he muttered. Suddenly someone grabbed him by the arm. Arthur sighed, knowing it was his coworker who stopped him. "Do you want your bloody money or not?"

"You can give it to me later," the dancer answered.

As on cue, the cheesing girls left the two alone.

"Have fun, King Arthur," said a grinning Brandy. "And you're welcome!"

Arthur's eyebrow twitched as he watched the cackling women trotted off.

"Brilliant," the Brit muttered before turning back to his half naked coworker. "The ATM?"

"I'll take you there on the way home. Did you drive here?"

"The girls drove me here." The Brit felt the dancer letting go of his hand. He for some reason felt lost without that warm touch. _I'm really falling for him_, he thought.

"Wait here," Alfred said. "I'm going to change."

**00000000**

It was a quiet ride back to Arthur's apartment. The only thing discussed between the two were their arguing back and forth about getting money from the ATM machine. The Brit insisted while the git refused. Arthur figured a deal was a deal, and he wasn't going to break his promise. He was dead serious when it came to money. And the git was gonna accept it whether he liked it or not. Leaving the ATM without a penny to give to the American, and having no choice but to get back in the car when the taller man threatened him by driving off to the exit of the parking lot without him, they were cruising down the half empty road.

It was back to being quiet again, cruising down the half empty streets. The Brit wished the highway was like this during the daytime. Open roads always calmed him, made him feel free, and cleared his mind. But now was not to time to do either of those. Arthur needed to come up with a way to confess to his coworker and not having it sound corny. He could feel the taller man staring at him in the corner of his eye a few times. He wondered what the American was thinking.

_I never felt so nervous in all my life. It was bad enough he saw me there. How often do you see an employer from Freedom Unit catch their coworker shaking their bare keister at a strip club? It's not my fault. I was tricked. But it was also luck that brought me there. I definitely owe the girls one. But where do I start? Is he going to tell me what's been going on with him? Blimey. There are probably a lot of things going through his mind right now. _

"I'm hungry," the Brit heard the man next to him say out loud.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course," he murmured. Of course _that _was what the git was _thinking_.

The taller blond turned his car to the right, heading to the entrance of a fast food restaurant. "Want anything?"

The Brit let out a deep sigh, staring at the bright yellow lights of the restaurant sign. "An explanation," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"I'm not hungry," the Brit answered out loud, flatly.

"I've been craving for a hamburger all night. I'll make this quick." Alfred pulled up to the drive thru window.

"Oh, no, no," the Brit sighed. "Take your bloody time. No rush."

Arthur turned to his left seeing the selections of food orders on the board. In the middle was a poorly designed plastic looking mascot clown, wearing a multi-color puffy jump suit with his arms and legs spread out wide. It was almost as if it was about to jump right out at them. His mouth was also opened wide, which was where the speaker of the intercom was placed. The Brit made a awkward face at the thing.

"_Thank you for choosing Flapjack in a Box!" _the clown statically greeted through the intercom. _"Can I take your order?"_

"Yeah!" the git beamed happily. "I just want a Flapjack burger with extra ketchup. Add bacon, please!"

"_Okay, sir! Flapjack burger, extra ketchup, with bacon and cheese?"_

"No, no," the git chuckled. "No cheese."

"_Alright, so a Flapjack burger, extra ketchup, with bacon, and a yogurt?"_

"Uh, no yogurt," Alfred answered.

"_Sorry, sir we only carry Flapjack in a Box brand yogurt. We don't serve 'gogurt'."_

"I don't want _any _yogurt," Alfred explained in a loud and clear voice. "Just my Flapjack burger, extra ketchup, and bacon, please."

"_...so you want cheese?" _the clown asked confusingly.

The Brit was sitting in the passenger side, rubbing his pounding forehead. "Bollocks," he murmured.

"No," Alfred cried louder. "No cheese!"

A car was blowing loudly behind them.

"_Okay, got it! A Flapjack burger, with extra ketchup, and bacon."_

"Yes," the relieved man answered.

"_Okay, sir! Your total is two seventy-four. Pull up on the second window, please!"_

Alfred chuckled to himself and pulled his car around the corner. "He must be new."

"It's that or they need a new intercom. It looked like someone clogged the bloody speaker with mayonnaise." The Brit reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a twenty and handed it to his coworker.

The American pulled out his own wallet in his back pocket, ignoring the Brit.

"Aren't you going to take it?" the Brit asked annoyingly.

"Keep it," the git said, pulling out the exact change in his wallet.

"I bid you, and I won you. Now take the blasted money."

"I'll get it later. I promise." The American turned to the cashier at the window and paid him.

"Here you are sir," the cashier said cheerfully.

"Thanks!" the American replied. He then paused.

Arthur blinked, noticing the silence and turned to Alfred who was staring at the man in the window. The Brit couldn't help but notice how _young _he looked. Arthur made a suspicious face.

"Heh," the Flapjack employer stammered. "Anything w-wrong, sir?"

"Ah, no," the American replied. "It's just that..."

Arthur watched how the kid was trailing his eyes from side to side nervously and drumming his fingers against the windowsill.

"Yes...?" the young man said.

"Well, uh," Alfred replied with a small laugh, "it's just that... you look incredibly young. Like fourteen or so?"

The young cashier broke into a huge, yet nervous laughter. "No way!" he piped.

"Yes way," Arthur replied, sourly. He leaned over to get a better look at the employer out the car window. "Last time I recalled, there's a law going around about how kids under eighteen shouldn't be out after 11pm. You _do _know about this, don't you, Mister..." The Brit looked down at the kid's name tag. "Ah! Mr. Raivis, is it?"

"H-hey!" the stammering boy objected. "I _am _eighteen. I may not look it, but it's just that... I... never had a growth sprout! That's all!"

"You know," Alfred said, "usually when you see kids working at a fast food restaurant at one in the morning, it could only mean that-"

"Raivis!"

Raivis jumped and turned to see an overweighted man walk over to him. He was wearing a blue shirt and tie. Obviously the supervisor.

"Raivis, quit holding up the line and give them their order!" the manager cried.

"Ah! Y-yes sir," Raivis stammered.

The manager turned to Alfred and Arthur, then back at the trembling Raivis. "Is there a problem?" he snapped.

Arthur winced.

_Bollocks. Maybe we should have kept our mouths shut._

"No," both Alfred and Arthur quickly answered. Arthur blinked and turned to Alfred who turned to him. Arthur turned back to the manager.

"We were just saying how _kind_ and _wonderful_ Mr. Raivis is," the Brit said with a smile. "_Brilliant _service!"

"Yeah!" Alfred agreed. "Not to mention how... _healthy_ looking he is!"

Arthur secretly nudged the American's back when he saw a vein popping out on the manager's forehead.

"It's our fault that we held up the line due to us praising Raivis' hard work!" Alfred continued.

Arthur nodded. "You've got some bloody amazing coworkers here, sir!"

"Well, if there's nothing else, get what you ordered and leave," the fuming manager spat before storming off.

A relieved Raivis smiled and handed the bag to Alfred. "Thank you for stopping by, sir," he said. "Thank you..." he repeated more softly.

"Take it easy," Alfred replied as he took his bag, placing it on Arthur's lap and drove off.

"Ah, h-hey!" the Brit cried as the greasy looking bag landed on his lap. He glared at the man driving.

"Mind opening it for me?" Alfred asked nicely.

The Brit turned his nose, silently mocking at what the git said. He opened the bag, reached in, and pulled out the wrapper covered high cholesterol, that they called food.

"You can take the first bite if ya want," Alfred insisted.

"_No_, thank you," the Brit grunted, making a face. He unwrapped the paper. Little steam hovered over the fresh, cooked burger. It did smell good to Arthur. The extra bacon looked delicious too. The Brit turned to the busy driving git, then back at the burger. He pulled out a strip of bacon and began eating it. As he bit down to it, the cooked strip made a loud crunching nose. The Brit blushed.

The American chuckled. "You can have more."

"I'm fine," he grumbled, holding it out to him. "Here."

"Go ahead. I'll get it at the next light."

Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled the burger away from the driver. He looked down at it again. The Brit wasn't really into hamburgers, but this was actually looking scrumptious and mouth watering. With a shake of the head and a shrug, the Brit took a small bite. He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, and examining the meat and other concoctions along his tongue. He swallowed and blinked.

_This is... surprisingly good._

Arthur took another bite. And another. And another.

"Arthur?"

The Brit looked up from the burger and turned to his driver. "Yes?" He then realized they made it at a stop light. Arthur watched as his coworker stared at him with a few blinks.

Alfred then chuckled, reaching out a finger, and brushing it across the dumbfounded Brit's lips. The American took the finger and sucked on it.

Arthur blinked before licking his lips, tasting a bitter taste on his tongue, realizing he had ketchup and crumbs on his lips. The Brit was ashamed.

"Want me to buy you another one?" the American asked before breaking into another smile.

The Brit cleared his throat and held out the burger that was only two bites away from being finished. "No," he murmured. "I'm done."

Alfred reached out for the remaining sandwich, fingers starting to brush against Arthur's along the way.

Arthur shivered slightly, feeling his coworker's fingers trailing further to his wrist and caressing it with his thumb. He looked into Alfred's eyes, trapped and lost in them. The Brit sat stiff as he watched his coworker inched his face closer and closer to his. Just as Alfred was a few centimeters away from the Brit's lips, he paused and grinned.

The American rested his forehead against the Brit's for a quick second. "Sorry," he murmured before turning back to the steering wheel and drove the car.

Arthur blinked, snapping out of it when he heard a car blowing loudly behind them. Arthur looked down, seeing the sandwich had slipped from his hand and resting by the gear stick. A few bacon strips and shredded lettuce wasted.

"It's okay," Alfred said. "I'll get it."

"N-no," Arthur murmured. "It's my fault." The Brit reached down on the floor, grabbing the sack that slipped from his lap and pulled out a few napkins, cleaning the gear. "There's another Flapjack a few miles away from my apartment. We can stop by and..."

"It's okay. I'll get one when I leave your place later."

Arthur looked down, placing the wasted food in the bag. "R-right," he murmured. "You're leaving." The Brit felt the taller blond staring, but he was too nervous to look up. He averted his eyes and turned to the passenger window. Moments later, they drove pass a Flapjack's. They were thirty seconds away from his complex, with Alfred just hours away from leaving town, and Arthur with no good speech on what to say to him.

**00000000**

The apartment door slowly opened, letting the taller blond man inside first. The smaller man followed right after, closing and locking the door behind him. He turned on the living room lights and watched as his coworker headed over to his couch while slipping off his "special" bomber jacket and gently placed it on the couch. He turned up front and sat quietly.

Arthur slipped off his jacket next and tossed it on the matching chair. It made a soft landing on the arm rest.

"Want anything?" the Brit asked. "Tea? Coffee?"

"I'm fine," the American answered.

Arthur walked over to the couch and sat on the other side, looking straight ahead. He kept his focus on the drapes of his off white curtains. He hated those dreadful things. It was a Christmas present given to him by Roderich. He pulled the Brit's name from the box that day. At least it was better than the present he received by Ivan a year before. Arthur came back to reality when he felt the person next to him shifted slightly on the couch. The Brit stared from the corner of his eye and turned back to the ugly curtains. He let out a sigh.

"A stripp-"

"Just to earn a few bucks," the tall man next to him spoke quietly.

The Brit turned to him, frowning softly. "But at a strip club?" he asked. "I mean... I _know _how much you love getting the attention and all, but do you actually enjoy going up stage doing all that? Going by that crazy policy of obeying to _almost_ whatever command a customer ask you?"

The American chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "As insane as it is," he said, "the pay's good, but that doesn't mean I enjoy most of it."

The Brit lifted a brow. "_Most _of it?"

There was a hint of red visible on the American's cheek. "I like to dance... and it was more fun seeing you there tonight."

"Aren't you a tad concern of how it would affect your job at Freedom Unit? What if some tattle tell saw you? If you were only earning '_a few bucks_', whynot a restaurant, Alfred? The deli of the sort?"

Alfred chuckled.

"What the fuck is so funny?" the Brit snapped getting annoyed with the git's chuckles and short replies.

"I work part-time at the deli," Alfred answered.

Arthur eyes widened. "Three jobs... You're holding down _three _bloody jobs?"

"Yep."

"So you work at that strip club for almost two years and... How long have you been working at the deli then?"

"Half a year," Alfred replied while stretching. "On Tuesday and Wednesday nights and early Sunday mornings. Normally I get calls, asking to come in if I'm free from my other jobs."

The Brit stared at the man hard. Why was he working three jobs? The git did say he was going out of town. But something still didn't add up.

_Has he been planning this trip for a while? But that wouldn't make since. After hearing his phone conversation today, it sounds more like an emergency trip. What's going on with you, git?_

"Alfred... are you in some kind of trouble?" the Brit asked. "I-I mean, I know I said to you before, that I don't want to get in your business. But is your life at risk?"

Alfred turned to the smaller man and smiled softly. "No," he answered, shaking his head. "Nothing like that. Honest."

The Brit pursed his lips, hesitant to ask the next question. He went for it anyway. "Are you going away... because of me?"

"Arthur," the American chuckled and shook his head faster, that strange little cowlick of hair on his head swaying side to side. "Why would I?"

"Because. After that night we..." The Brit stared into his coworker's soft blue eyes. Just now he noticed how tired and stressed the man looked, and his eyes didn't look as bright and lively as it normally would. The more Arthur had been studying this man's eyes and features, the better he knew something was off. "You're in trouble," the Brit said, stating the obvious.

"No, I'm not," Alfred denied with a sweet smile. That gentle... sad smile.

_Lying bastard._

"Stop doing that," Arthur whispered, staring into his eyes once more.

"Doing what?"

"Th...that saddening smile. I told you before that's not normal."

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe it. Not one bloody bit. You can't fool me."

"I'm not dying, if that's what you're thinking, Arthur," the American said with _that _smile.

"Stop it..." the Brit warned.

"Stop what?"

"I don't know what you're up to git, with you _leaving _out of the blue and what not! But something's been going on with you. You're bloody making me concern about you again, and _again_, it's bugging the shit out of me."

The taller blond turned away, shaking his head with a grin. "There's nothing for you to be concern over," he said.

Arthur sat back on the couch with his arms and legs crossed.

_If there's nothing for me to be concern over, why am I not convinced? _

Arthur was never one to be concern about his coworkers. He feared if someone told him about their situation, that he might ended up _trapped_ in their situation. If someone was going through something personal and wanted Arthur's assistance, he probably would have told them to lick their wounds and move the fuck on. Unless...

"We're... friends aren't we?" the Brit spoke.

"I'd like to think so," Alfred answered.

"Right. And friends stick by each other correct?"

"Right."

"...and friends tell each other everything, right?"

"Right," the taller blond answered.

"So as a friend," Arthur continued, surprisingly starting to sound like Kiku from last weekend, "It is their place to lend an ear to hear out another friend's problem, right?"

"Yeah."

The Brit nodded and turned back to the taller blond, giving him his full abided attention. "Right! So, off we go then."

Alfred blinked and nodded.

The Brit stared back.

Alfred continued staring.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Right. You see? This is the part where you tell me what's troubling you. Your _friend_."

"I'm not troubled," the American replied.

"Alfred, I'm trying really hard here for _once _in my life, to help out a person-or a friend rather, in need."

"I know," Alfred answered, nodding.

"Then why aren't you telling me what's wrong?"

"Because I'm fine."

"Are you _absolutely _sure?"

"Yes," Alfred replied... with _that_ smile.

"See?" the Brit cried pointing at the startled American. "You're doing it again!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Fff-you st... crikey-you... stupid..." The babbling Brit threw his hands in the air and turned back to Alfred. "Look. Just look me straight in the eye and tell me that everything's alright. And I'll just drop it."

The American lean across the couch, looking dead in Arthur's eyes. "Arthur," he said with a straight face. "_Everything's _alright."

The Brit stared silently. He then glared. "Admit it. You're in a bind aren't you?"

Alfred frowned. "No."

Arthur got up and went down the hallway to his bedroom. He walked over to his night stand, pulling out the drawer. Rummaging through it, he took out his checkbook and ink pen. The checkbook design showed a faded background of the Big Ben clock tower with doves flying by. It was one of Arthur's favorites, reminded him of home. Plus it was the best one that caught his eye when he ordered it. If having little poodles and monster trucks fitted someone fancy, that suited the Brit fine. Just as long as they didn't mail him Barbie checks like last time. Arthur hurried back to the living room, making sure his guest wasn't trying to slip out. Alfred was sitting in the same spot, staring at him. Arthur walked around the couch and plopped his behind back on the cushion. With an angry sigh, he took his pen and scribbled the date, the amount, and his signature on the check. Satisfied with his decision, he ripped the check in one swift motion, tossed the book and pen on the table, turned to his coworker, handing the signed check to him.

"Two thousand. As promised. If you need more, please tell me."

"I don't need it, Arthur. Really."

"You're fucking taking this, and that's final, git!" The Brit grabbed the man's wrist, shoving the check into his hand, making it wrinkle slightly on contact.

"Arthur, thank you," the taller blond said gently, handing the money back. "But I have more than enough."

"Not if you've been working at that retarded strip joint for nearly two years... having those women put their hands all over you like that... pisses me off."

"...Arthur."

The Brit made a frustrating growl. He grabbed the man's bomber jacket and roughly slipped the money in his pocket.

"Fucking _take_ it," he cried. "If you need it to keep your ankles from being tied to cement blocks or just want to buy a stupid Captain America action figure, _keep _it! ...it's the least I can do." The Brit didn't hear anymore objections from the git. Just a soft nod and a quiet "thank you" from him. He watched the American take the bomber jacket from him and placed it back on the couch.

"Your voice message," Alfred said turning back to him. "What was it you wanted to talk about? I take it..." The taller blond paused to let out a chuckle. "...that it wasn't about _this_."

Arthur turned back to the ugly drapes again. "It's not," he answered.

"What is it?"

Arthur turned back to the man, taking his time to come up with the right thing to say. "Tell me," he began. "Do you think it's okay for two men to have a relationship?"

Alfred blinked.

"I want to hear _your _answer. Do _you _think it's right?"

"No matter which way you go, it's still love to me. Whether people think it's right or wrong."

The Brit stared at the American harder. "Do you... truly love me?" he asked carefully.

"Ever since we've met," Alfred answered with a straight face. "Never once stopped. Even though I tried my hardest before, I don't think I ever will... even though you don't feel the same way, I'll always love you."

_I love you too, bastard. I really do. But..._

"Why do you love me?"

The American smiled with a shrug. "I don't know," he replied.

"Surely there must be a reason. Why do you think you love me?"

"I don't think. I _know_. I love you... because I guess you make me feel that everything will be okay. That things happen for a reason... that even though bad things happen... you gotta move on. I... stay sane because of you."

Arthur stared, shocked. "Do I _really _make you feel that way?" he asked. "After the number of times I snap, cuss, and yell at you, you praise me?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered. "I do."

The Brit soaked in the kind things his coworker said to him. He didn't think he made anyone feel that way. It actually pleased him. A little puzzled on how he kept the man sane, but pleased. He turned to Alfred. "Are you sure you're speaking of me?"

Alfred grinned and nodded.

"Alfred, I..." The Brit's eyes soften, having the urge to punch himself in the face. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Alfred asked, confused.

Arthur turned back up front, leaning over, and resting his elbows on his knees, lightly tapping his fist against his palm. He gazed at the floor with a soft shake of the head.

_I'm not sure myself._

"You seem to be going through so much this week. It was bad enough I yelled at you when you came by the other night." He turned to the baffled coworker. "Even though you told me I have nothing to apologize for, I really am sorry." Arthur turned away from the American, placing his hands against his tired face. With a disappointing groan, he murmured, "Blimey, I'm such a bastard."

"No you're not," he heard the taller man say softly.

"Just accept my apology, alright? Please. Maybe it'll make me feel better to hear you say it." The Brit watched as his coworker placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them in a sincere gesture. Arthur's heart fluttered faster from his warm contact.

"Apology accepted, Arthur," the American said. "Even though you had nothing to say sorry for."

The Brit nodded, looking down shyly.

"Feel better?" the taller blond asked.

"Yeah. I think so."

The American laughed, playfully patting the Brit's shoulder. "Great!" he beamed.

Arthur rubbed his now hurting shoulder, looking up at his coworker. He gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Alfred nodded as he snatch up his coat and slipped it back on.

The Brit's smile faded. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah," the tall blond answered, standing. "My flight leaves at eight in the morning."

The Brit turned to the clock shown on his cable box. It was thirty minutes passed one. He wasn't finished with their conversation, and he still couldn't come up with the right words to confess to the man. Sure, saying 'I love you' could work, but he wanted this to be meaningful so that Alfred would never forget.

"U-um," the Brit spoke as he sprang from his couch. "You're heading to Flapjack's on your way home, right?"

Alfred blinked at his coworker's sudden action. "Uh... yeah," he replied. "Don't worry about the last one you ate. I can buy another one."

"W-well... what if I quickly whip up the ones I made for you the other night? You told me you like them, so... I-It won't take long. That way you can save up your money for your trip!"

"You don't have to go through all that," Alfred answered with a smile. "You have work tomorrow, and you're probably tire-"

"Oh, nonsense. I don't mind at all! Please. Sit back down."

"Arthur, that won't be n-"

Arthur placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders and made him sit, almost too roughly. "Take your coat back off and I'll hang it in the closet."

"Arthur, I-"

Arthur went behind him, slipping off his coat. "Really, now. No trouble. Kick off your shoes. Stay for an hour... or two... or three... no rush." The Brit blushed heading down the hallway, murmuring on. "Stay until you're ready to leave... no trouble at all. Just stay... no rush. No rush at all..."

"Um... Arthur?"

The Brit rushed inside his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door, running a hand down his reddened face. He sighed and stared down at the jacket. He needed more time. He needed to do this. The desperate Brit jumped slightly when he heard a knock at the door behind him.

"Arthur?" the Brit heard his coworker's muffled voice behind the door.

"Uh... just a second," the Brit called. He locked the door behind him before rushing to his closet. "I'll be out shortly."

"Arthur, what's going on?" Another knock. "You're acting strange. Again."

The Brit pushed a few used hangers to the side. "You don't know the half of it," he muttered to himself.

"Can I come in? Please?"

Arthur poked his head out the closet. "N-no," he called. "Wait for me in the kitchen, alright?"

"Arthur, it's late. I can buy one."

Arthur quickly went though all the hangers that were already carrying clothes. He couldn't find not one single free hanger. He swore under his breath and turned to the bedroom door. "Please one moment. I'm almost..." There was another knock at the door followed by twisting of the knob. Arthur took out a used hanger and placed Alfred's coat over his blazer that he hardly wore.

"Arthur, I'm sorry. I... I really gotta head out."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." the panicking Brit murmured out like a motor boat, rushing back to the bedroom door. He twisted the lock and flung the door open, having to run face first against a hard chest. A pair of hands held him upright to keep him from falling back.

"Are you okay?" a concerned voice whose belong to the American asked.

The Brit kept his face planted on his coworker's chest, taking in that wonderful scent he loved on him so much, arms dangling to his sides. He stayed there without uttering a word, without coming up with an excuse, not really knowing how to tell this man how he felt. This was his chance. His only chance. How was he suppose to say it and mean it? He loved him. Why was it so hard to get it out?

"Hey," Arthur heard the man above him say gently like he was speaking to a frightened child. Arthur felt the American's hands placed on his shoulders, getting ready to pull him away slightly. The Brit used all his strength to keep from budging, to keep Alfred from looking into his eyes. He heard the man above him chuckle. "Arthur, look at me."

The Brit quietly shook his head on the man's chest.

"You wanna just bury your face onto my chest then?"

The Brit nodded on the man's chest. Arthur felt his coworker rubbing his shoulders up and down, hearing him murmuring an "okay."

How to say I love you? _How_? Why was the Brit having trouble saying it? He discovered that Alfred still loved him. Why was the Brit holding back still?

"Git," the Brit muffled. "Stupid git."

"Hm?" Arthur heard the taller man hum as he gently ruffled his hair. The Brit shivered. He couldn't stand it. That touch. This contact. He just couldn't stand it.

"I can't believe," Arthur continued. "You. Of _all _people... that it had to be bloody you. Pisses me off."

"Arthur... you're..."

"Fucking git. You... fucking git."

Was it just too painful to say it because the American was going away tomorrow? That he wouldn't feel his warmth like this for a long time? His touch? Seeing that goofy smile of his? Why did it feel that this will be the last time Arthur would get to spend time with him like this?

_Where are you going? Why are you going?_

But most importantly...

"When...?" went the muffled question.

"...I don't know, Arthur. When it's tim-"

"Just give me a fucking date please..."

"Days. Months. A year or two from now. It's kinda hard to say right now."

"Alright." The Brit was getting lightheaded and closed to passing out. He pulled his face slightly away from Alfred's chest until his nostrils inhaled fresh air. "Alright then," he repeated softly, more clearly. The Brit felt the taller man encircling his arms around his shoulders, embracing him close. Arthur heaved a shaky sigh, clenching his fists tightly.

"Is this okay?" the taller blond asked.

Arthur pressed the side of his face against Alfred's chest, listening to his heart throb. "Yeah..." the Brit answered. "It's getting a bit drafty in here anyway."

"I can tell. You're shaking. A lot."

The two remained quiet, standing by the doorway. A comforting silence, yet saddening. Arthur stared at his coworker's shirt covered arm, fascinated by how his sleeve was rolled neatly pass his forearm which was nice and toned, seeing an outline of his veins. He felt the man pulling him closer, seeing how the arm flexed slightly as he did so. This was the second embrace he gotten from the American and the second one that felt depressing. Feliciano's hugs felt more cheerful and carefree at least. Unless the Brit had gone crazy, he wished the Italian was with them to lighten the mood. The smaller blond just then felt his coworker slowly pulling away.

"Hey, Arthur" Alfred said softly.

The Brit reached up and clenched on to Alfred's shirt sleeve. _Not yet, _Arthur thought. He felt the taller man pausing, staring down at the top of his ruffled hair. Normally this would have been embarrassing to Arthur, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted his warmth to last longer. He wanted to be near his presence. He didn't want him to leave. Why did it hurt? Arthur waited, wondering what the man was going to do, to say. Finally, he felt Alfred pulling him close against his chest once more.

"Arthur," he whispered. "There's no rush. Remember?"

Arthur choked out a chuckle, but sounded more like a sob. "Alfred," he murmured. "I..."

"You don't have to make those burgers," he heard the taller blond say, "but I can hang out a bit."

"...Alright."

**00000000**

Arthur really meant it when he said that there was no rush. No rush at all. He wanted this moment, this night, to last as long as possible. Though the pace was slow and excruciating. Tedious and heart-wrenching. This was how the Brit wanted it, again and again.

"Oh, God..."

"You're bleeding. Let's stop."

"N-no... it's alright."

"Arthur..."

"Please. I'm alright."

Foreplay in the hallway, fucking in and out the shower, and more fucking in the middle of the bedroom floor later, the two continued in bed, slowly, roughly, without stopping to take a breather. The sheets and pillows were fully damp from the shower water, their sweat, and their hot essences.

Arthur didn't think he would last this long after the shower, but he felt he could go another round or two. He knew his partner was feeling the same way. The way he thrust himself inside the Brit like the world could end at any moment. Placing kisses on every part of Arthur's skin that felt it was set on fire. Murmuring positions he wanted the Brit in, and whispering words in his ear, hot and sexy words, pleasing and soothing words, mostly whispering 'I love you.' The Brit would usually release whenever he heard Alfred say it. He felt his mind and body were going to explode. But not yet. It was too soon.

Arthur clenched tightly at Alfred's forearms and around his length at the same time, back arched, breath sucked in, as he felt himself let go once more. "B...Blimey!" he cried hoarsely.

"Again?" the American panted with a chuckle. "How many was that? I lost count."

The Brit plopped his body back on the dampened sheets, panting harshly. Arthur's green orbs gazed up at his partner. "Why are you... counting how many times I came?" he breathed.

Arthur watched the American smile down at him before pushing himself in between his legs again. The Brit made a started gasp as he encircled his legs around the man's waist.

"Because," Alfred said in mid-thrust, "I want your climaxes to count as saying that you love me."

Arthur's eyes widened by surprise, his heart fluttered as his lower region throbbed. He just realized. Not once had he told the man those three words since they fucked. It just hit him like a leather whip cracked against his bare back.

Arthur hoisted himself by his trembling arms, staring deep into the American's soften eyes. "A-Alfred," he stammered. "Alfred, I-"

The American silenced him with a deep kiss, lowering him back on the mattress. Arthur moaned frustratingly, pulling away.

"Alfred, please," the Brit whispered. "Please... l-let me-Ah!" The Brit was cut off by Alfred's sharp thrusts, causing Arthur's body to melt, his mind to turn to mush, followed by a forced kiss. Arthur grunted, trying to break free. He just wanted to tell him. If it was just once.

The American broke the kiss slightly. "I love you," he breathed and connected lips once more.

The Brit could do nothing but wrap both arms and legs around Alfred and take it, take as much love from him as he could, keep it wrapped and bundled inside his memories, his body, and soul. He wanted Alfred to do the same.

_I love you, Alfred. It's all yours. Never forget this. Ever._

**00000000**

_-click-_

Arthur's eyes popped open, awakened in an empty bed, staring out the dawn sky through a window. The clock on his night stand read 5:23am. It was dawn...

_-click-_

The Brit quickly turned to his bedroom door, watching it slowly closed. Arthur's heart jumped. This was it. This was really it.

"Bollocks..."

With a quick flash, Arthur sprang out of his still damp bed, snatching the covers, and wrapped it tightly around his waist as his feet stomped loudly on the floor, disturbing the neighbor's below him possibly, as he headed toward the door. The Brit flung it open just like before and dashed out into the hallway. He looked ahead, seeing Alfred's back facing him as he slipped on his bomber jacket by the front door. He fixed his wool like collar before reaching for the door knob and twisted it open.

Feeling like something just came behind Arthur and smacked him in the back of the head, he blared it out. "I love you!"

The Brit watched his coworker paused by the door. Alfred carefully turned to him with a startled and surprised look on his face.

"I love you," the Brit repeated, clenching the sheets around his waist tightly, slowly walking toward the American. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? That's what you wanted to hear right? For the past forty-eight _blasted _hours, I've been trying to come up with the right words... a _fucking _speech to tell you all this! But I can't, alright? I don't know what to say! I'm no fucking Romeo, Alfred. I'm not those bad actors you see on those damn cheesy love films. And I may not be as good-looking as them either. So I'm just cutting the _bullshit _and just letting you know! I love you... I love you... I love you..." Arthur made it to the living room, getting closer. "I love you... I love you... I love you... I love you." He finally made it up to Alfred by the doorway. With a sigh, the Brit placed his forehead against his chest. "I love you," the Brit whispered. He stared down at their feet, not caring how dumb he sounded or looked just now. He said it, and that's all he cared about.

"You've got to be kidding me," came a harsh reply from the taller man.

Arthur's heart fell, hearing that tone from Alfred. He didn't believe him? But _why_? After putting all his heart and soul into that corny confession, Alfred didn't believe him. Just as the Brit was about to object, his shoulders were grasped tightly and was forced to look up at the frowning American.

"Alfred," the Brit stammered. "_Please_. I'm telling the t-"

"Are you _actually _saying makeup wearing actors are better looking than you?" Alfred said as he broke into a huge grin. "Have you _seen _what they look like when the paparazzi secretly take photos of them? Mug shots got nothing on your natural and handsome features, Arthur."

Arthur blinked, dumbfounded. "Ah..." He was then pulled close to the American, in a tight embrace. The confused Brit blinked some more, eyes moving from side to side nervously. "Al..fred?"

"I love you too, Arthur," Alfred whispered. "Thank you."

Arthur closed his eyes as he felt Alfred pulling him much closer. The Brit took his free hand, clenching on to Alfred's coat. "It was ten, you know."

"Ten?" he heard Alfred say, confusingly. "Ten what?"

Arthur looked up at him, smiling shyly with a soft blush. "That's how many times I came last night," he replied. "Ergo, that's how many bloody times I told you that I love you, git."

Alfred chuckled before placing a kiss on Arthur's forehead. "That makes eleven," he murmured.

Arthur stood on his toes, reaching for a kiss. He clenched Alfred's coat tighter when their lips touched. Why couldn't time stand still so this moment could last? A soft moan escaped the Brit's throat as he felt the wetness of Alfred's tongue across his lips. Happily, he accepted the request, parted his mouth as Alfred's tongue entered him, playing with Arthur's own wet muscle. Arthur grasped the coat tighter, knees trembling, lightheaded. The kiss was getting too good, but they had to stop before one of them passed out.

Arthur pulled away staring into Alfred's eyes. "I'll say it as many times as you want until you believe that I do," he panted.

"The first time you said it was enough for me, Arthur," the American replied, pulling him back to his chest. "You've made me so happy."

The American's tight embrace was making the Brit hard to breath, but he didn't care. Instead he pressed his cheek against his beating heart. "And you better stay that way when you come back," he ordered.

Alfred chuckled. "Yes, your majesty."

Arthur grunted when he felt himself throb by that reply.

_I hate this git._

_

* * *

_

**Hm… This seems like a happy ending, now doesn't it? Again, folks, this is NOT the last chapter… though, it ****could**** be. This is the debate that I was going on about in the last chapter and the opinions that I wanted to hear from you all. But I'll ask what those options are… after the "****Epilogue****"**

**Hope you guys like this! Be safe!**

**-Cry**


	20. Epilogue

_**The author says READ THIS FIRST: **__Okay… so, uh… __**this**__ is the chapter that you have um… being waiting for__…__ I guess… the "Epilogue". Now, I ju-_

**_._**

**_.._**

**…**

**…_._**

**_….._**

**BFFF**

**~("Epilogue")~**

**00000000**

_-ring-_

Groggy, tired, and half asle-

_**The author says… **__**READ THIS A/N FIRST!**__**: **__Heh! Um, hi there! Remember me? CryHOg? The author? The one who asked you to read this first? Now, I understand that you people are excited to re-_

**_._**

**_.._**

**…**

**…_._**

**…_.._**

**BFFF**

**~("Epilogue")~**

**00000000**

_-ring-_

Groggy, tired, and half-asleep, Matthew reached an arm out from underneath his bed she-

_**************__**SERIOUSLY, GUYS! PAY ATTENTION! THE ARTHOR REALLY WANTS YOU TO HEAR THIS NOW!**__****************: **_

…_are we back? Thank you… *sighs*_

_To be honest with you guys, I am scared shitless about this "chapter". Once you read it, you will definitely know why I'm scared. _

_A few weeks ago, I have been warned by my proofreader (__**NeonGreenCrayon) **__that most of you are going to go "WHAT THE FUCK?" on me, sending me death threats, and I may end up getting tea bagged the next time you see me at an anime convention. I've been hesitant to post this "Epilogue" for weeks because I wasn't sure if I made the right choice to end it this way… __**for now**__**.**_

_So before you start reading this, and sending me hurtful reviews, and expressing your anger and disgust by playing the piano, I might as well go ahead and give you the __options on what I was thinking about doing after '__**BFFF' **right now__. _

_For those of you who have been paying EXCELLENT ATTENTION, there are still gaps and holes in the story that hasn't been resolved. I'm sure most of you know this. Now's the time to ask opinions from __**you**__ guys (even though I probably know the answer already): _

_**OPTIONS: **Should I keep this story rolling or set this aside for the time being and jump to a different story (Alfred's POV), OR... jump to a different side story not involving Alfred and Arthur?** **_

_**Also **__keep in mind, that I still have to finish up my sequel fanfic of __**'Garlic Breath' **__(which I need to go back and fix bad errors and typos as well as the earlier chapters of __**'BFFF'**__) called __**'Recipe for Love'**__, a Germany/N. Italy fanfic. There were a few who were looking forward to see me finish that._

_Again, I'll be honest with you. I like keeping you guys in suspense even though the genre of __**'BFFF' **__is romance/humor. It's __**pure**__ humor that you guys get upset with a certain character in the story. Hehe! Aw, don't be mad. I just like teasing you all, and it makes me happy you look forward to my crazy work! Nevertheless, after making this short ass __**"chapter", **__I am __**terrified**__ for once._

_Okay! I just wanted to clear that up and get this warning out of the way. I only hope I don't get you guys TOO upset about this "Epilogue", but it is up to you whether you want me to keep going or focus on another employee couple of Freedom Unit! :B_

_**Axis Powers Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (be gentle…)**_

**BFFF**

**~("Epilogue")~**

**00000000**

**_~One month later~_**

_-ring-_

Groggy, tired, and half-asleep, Matthew reached an arm out from underneath his bed sheets to retrieve his cell phone on his nightstand. After his third attempt and a few bruises, which would appear on his hand later, he snatched up the phone and answered.

"Mhhh... h-hello?" he whimpered groggily.

"_Matt! Good morning!" _the caller happily cried on the other end of the line. _"Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!"_

The bed haired blond winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. He glanced at the screen on his phone to check the time. Groaning, he sat up on his bed before placing the phone back to his ear when it was safe to speak. "Alfred…?" he groaned. "…it's four in the morning." Matthew listened to his brother laugh in reply.

"_Lucky!" _the loud brother teased. _"It's eleven in the morning here! You're still bundled up in your cozy bed, huh?"_

"Well... I was-"

"_I had the the most wicked brunch ever here! Blueberry muffins, eggs, toast, and fruit, and those __**little tiny **__piggies in a blanket mom used to make for us! Remember?"_

"Oh... that's... that's nice, Al-"

"_What are you gonna eat today?"_

Matthew's tired, squinted eyes blinked. "I was thinking... maybe a ham omelet," he answered.

"_Cool! That's cool."_

The soft-spoken brother sat quietly, waiting for his louder brother to babble on. Nothing came. The two remained silent, holding the phone, listening to each other breath softly through the speaker. Three minutes later, which was actually a new record for Alfred to not say anything, Matthew spoke. "It's... been a month since you left, hasn't it?" he said gently. "How's everything down there?"

"_Awesome," _Alfred answered quietly. _"Just awesome."_

"Great. Ah... And… how's-"

"_Fine. Doing… just fine."_

Matthew nodded slowly, yet unsurely. "That's… great."

"_Yeah." _

Matthew always felt anxious whenever his brother's behavior wasn't... over the top like it would be ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. The other one percent could be anything: not getting his fix on hamburgers, not getting his comic books or collective figurines in the mail on time, missing out on a Coheed and Cambria concert when he's feeling under the weather. This time, to Matthew, Alfred's _happy _mood felt like fifteen percent.

Deciding it was about time to break the silence and change the subject, Matthew spoke again. "Have any plans for toda-"

"_Hey, Matt?" _the louder one interrupted.

"Um... yeah?"

A pause.

"Alfred?"

"_I'm here."_

Matthew pulled the covers off him and slipped out of bed. "Oh, okay." He walked over to his window, looking up at the half moon. "Is there something wrong?"

"_No. Well... I…" _the loud brother paused and chuckled. _"I have some stuff in the storage room back home. And um… heh."_

"You forgot something there?" Matthew asked. "Want me to mail it to you?"

"_No, that's not it," _there was a stiff chuckle. _"Well, I… think I won't be needing them anymore. It's all yours if you want."_

"Ah… um, Alfred," the quiet brother stammered, turning away from the window. "I barely have enough room here as it is."

"_That's fine. You can just sell my things. Give it to charity. Burn it if you wa-"_

"Alfred," Matthew broke his brother off, _and _for the first time. "Give away your things? Why? Aren't you coming back home?

"…"

Matthew stood still, waiting for some sort of reply from his brother.

"_No… I'm not."_

_

* * *

_

_**To be or not to be continued…**_


	21. chair raping? updates

**Okay chicas and chicos. ..**

**Before I get my head bit of…. a_gain_, I'm just unofficially posting this heads up to the ones who don't know yet… **

**A couple of weeks ago, I made a sequel to the story _BFFF_ which is called… _BFFF: Love Will Make it Certain_. **

**I'm removing this author note by the end of the week or until everyone knows the awesome news.**

**The second chapter to the sequel will be uploaded this week. With humorous sex…. SPOILER! :B**

**Be safe!**

**-cry**


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